Shotgun tales
by vansen58
Summary: A series of short stories and drables about the Winchesters. Each chapter is a stand alone story. 52: "'Dean has a what now' He gets 'a girlfriend' and 'not a girlfriend' as answers and they manage to say the word 'girlfriend' completely in sync. "
1. Beautiful boys

**Author's note:** I've noticed everything I write about SPN is either a short story or a drable, so I decided to put them all together in the same file. So, from now on this will be the place for my SPN stuff.

Now, I'll just republish my previous stories and put them as chapters here. I apologize if you are seeing a double post, really. I do promise to write new stuff pretty soon, though.

I hope you like them.

**Beautiful boys**

John was sitting at the table on the darkest corner of the bar with a bottle of Jack when he saw them enter. He was halfway up his seat when he settled back down and decided to wait. 'Let's see how this plays out.'

They didn't know he was back, had been back for a couple of hours. The last hunt… didn't go as he planned. He wasn't fast enough, smart enough and the ghost ganked the parents of the family he was trying to save before he could bat an eye. Another family destroyed by dark ugly things. More children that were going to grow up knowing far more than they should…

…like his sons, who were now walking up to the bartender with far more confidence than they would have if they knew what was coming later tonight as punishment for this little adventure.

They flashed their fake IDs (when did they *get* fake IDs?) and he snorted out loud. Stupid prick couldn't see he was going to serve children? He was going to bust their ass right then and there when Sam sat next to Dean and something in John painfully knotted itself tight. Somewhere during all those hunts and training assignments, he missed it: his sons were not children anymore. They were men.

His whisky fogged brain was failing at basic math… they were in 1998 so… fuck, when did Dean turn 19? He was 19?

Another shot and he subtracted four years. Sam was 15 years-old, for fuck's sake. Not anywhere near legal, but still. Definitely not a child anymore.

John took a moment to observe his sons from afar. He felt a odd mixture of pride and sorrow looking at his eldest. Dean was a soldier, through and through. The way he moved, the way he wouldn't turn his back on the door. And the look on his eyes… John had seen that look on eyes just as young as Dean's, on fellow Marines coming from Nam after witnessing far more horror than they ever thought possible. John's heart tightened. Dean has been fighting a war since he was four.

Then Sam… and John was even more surprised. Maybe he didn't pay enough attention ('maybe?', a voice that sounded like Bobby's ringed in his ears), Dean was always the one responsible for Sam. But Sam had somehow also turned into a man. And for all the bitching and moaning about hunting, he too moved like a soldier far too wise for his years. And what he lacked in facial hair, he sure made up in height. When did that happen? Sam was as tall as Dean now.

They took their beers and moved to a table on the opposite side. John could see them clearly, but they couldn't see him.

By the second beer, they were more relaxed and chatting excitedly about something. Again, surprise hit him and John let out a sigh. 'Thank God, they're friends'.

He never saw that side of them. When they were with him, Dean was his lieutenant, Sam was the opposing party and it's been years since they had a conversation with each other anywhere near John's ears. Sam let out a loud round laugh and John felt a dizziness that had nothing to do with liquor. He never ever heard the sound of his son's laughter like that.

He was one step away from storming out before being noticed when he caught something glimmering in Dean's eyes. A couple of girls from the local community college walked in and were sitting themselves at a nearby table.

Dean winked at his brother, grabbed his beer and walked to their table, with a confidence that did not match a boy that was going to try a move on girls that were at least a couple of years his seniors.

Sam rolled his eyes when his brother stood up but joined him when Dean told him to come to the girl's table. And John was definitely feeling only pride when he saw all the girls entranced by his boys.

He couldn't hear what they were talking about, but the girls were laughing that laugh that women only give when they are interested and a very busty blonde that had to be at least five years older than Dean just couldn't stop touching him.

Half an hour later, Dean and busty Blondie walked out of the bar, leaving Sam alone in the table with the other girls. That's when it hit John. And it was like he was seeing his sons for the first time.

They were not rugged, bearded smelly hunters like himself and the lot of them. His sons were beautiful. They could probably fit themselves easily at any of those prissy male model photo shoots from girly magazines. Sam's jaw line were par with the movie stars. Dean's green eyes and bright smile seemed to make him able to swoon any girl of her feet - and from what he had seen tonight, Dean knew it.

He tried to envision what sort of life they would have had if things were different. If Mary had lived. If he hadn't been so selfish and given them up for adoption. They would have nice things. Nice clothes, probably a car that wasn't older than them both. He could just picture them holding hands with a stunning woman each, chatting over tall champagne glasses...

The mental image was enough to send him to the door, praying Sam wouldn't notice him.

He shouldn't be surprised with what he saw outside. He should know better than to ever expect Dean to leave his little (well, not so little anymore) brother alone. Dean was inside the Impala locking lips with busty Blondie.

John tapped the window.

"Leave me alone, Sammy."

"Not Sam", he gruffed and had to physically restrain a smile when Dean's face went white and he turned himself around like a ballerina, mumbling sorrys to Blondie and snapping to attention outside the car in less than three seconds flat.

"Sir, I'm…I'm sorry"

The voice that sounded like Bobby chuckled in his head. 'Not the kid's fault, you moron'.

"My car is not a motel", he whispered in his best menacing voice.

He could see Dean was about to blurt out another apology when his son noticed something being shoved on his hands. Dean blinked once, then twice looking at the 20 bill now on his palm, before looking back up. "Wha…?"

"Get a room". It was an order, but he could see Dean's hesitation, so he added a "lady's waiting" and turned back around.

As Dean went back to the car, Sam was standing in the sidewalk looking just was dumbstruck as his brother.

"Hey, Sammy", John tried a smile. Then threw his keys into the boy's hands.

"Truck is on the corner. Wanna drive?"

The slight turn of his boy's head made him look 15 again and John relaxed.

Dean was going out with some girl, Sam was driving his father's truck.

Things were as normal as they would ever gonna get around here.


	2. Jess really hates that jacket

Stanford years, pre-series, Jessica learns who Dean is. Fluffy, maybe too too fluffy, I don't know…

Sorry if you saw this before. I did tweak it a little bit, because it annoyed me that it started on Jess's POV, then it went to Sam's and then back to Jess. It's all Jess now.

**Jess really hates that jacket**

Jess really hates doing the laundry. Well, the laundry, the dishes, cleaning the house. She hates it. She never ever bothered to ask her mom to teach her those things before going to college, so she sucks at them. Simples as that. It never bothered her before, when she was living in the dorm room, but now things are different. It's been a month since she moved in with Sam and Sam loves doing the laundry, the dishes and the cleaning. While everyone is bitching about inadvertedly dyeing white clothes in the washer and breaking dishes, Sam is just great at all of those things. And he seems overjoyed at doing them. Jess thinks maybe it has something to do with growing up without his mother so she's starting to feel really guilty for not helping around so much.

She decides it's time to step up and help a bit and starts gathering their dirty clothes in a pile when she finds the thing.

Sam's military jacket.

Jess really hates that jacket.

Sam always dresses nicely and she has yet to see him in public with it, but he's always wearing it in a laid back days or at home. She hates it. It's obvioulsy seen more than it's fair share of time. And, frankly, it doesn't even fit him right, it's almost too small. Sam doesn't care, he loves the damned thing.

She sighs and puts the jacket in the pile when she notes something written inside it in large bold black letters.

"DEAN'S (NOT SAM'S - DEAN'S)"

Dean. She's heard Sam say that name more than one time in his sleep during what she was pretty sure were nightmares. She never had the heart to ask him about it, he always sounded so scared all the times that it happened.

And Sam has so many secrets. She doesn't know what will set him off and make him sulk. At all. Sam has left upset from a werewolf movie they saw in the terror marathon they were having in the city the previous week and she can't, for the life of her, figure out why. He won't tell her. A couple months ago, they were in a party at Zack's place and Sam just stood up and left when a record from Led Zeppelin started playing. Refused to talk about that too.

Jess has had enough, really.

Sam's at his desk, studying for a test. Like always. She's asking before she can help it.

"Hey, Sam…who's Dean?"

She swears he almost jumps a little.

"What… what? Why?"

She shows him the writing.

He chuckles. "Oh… oh, okay. Huh… Dean's my brother. My older brother".

"You never told me you had a brother", she looks at him. Why didn't he ever tell her he had a brother? They've been together long enough for her to know he has siblings, right? That's a first date revelation, not really a big deal. So Jess can spill all her secrets to Sam but he can't tell her he has a brother?

"I didn't?"

"No", she deadpans. "You said your mom died and that you had a fall out with your dad. Nothing about brothers or sisters or anything, really".

"Oh", he sounds genuinely surprised. "Oh, okay. Dean's my brother. My only brother. Four years older than me."

"You guys had a fall out too?", she asks because that's pretty much the only thing she would accept as an excuse at this point.

"No, no. No. Dean and I get along. We just don't have much in common. And he's very loyal to my dad. But, no. Dean's great."

"Okay", she shrugs. Whatever. Not worth a fight, she decides suddenly. The look that crosses Sam's face looks almost like guilt.

He throws his hands in the air."You're right, I'm hiding something".

Oh, a miracle. Jess turns around and almost says Sam hides a lot of things, but stops herself. Decides it's best to let it play out.

He gives a tiny smile before he continues.

"I'm hiding something. Huh… that jacket used to belong to my brother. When he was a teenager, I was barely a kid. That's why he wrote that, he was taunting me."

Whatever.

"What, Sam? That's what you were hiding? You stole your brother's jacket when you were kids?", she laughs but she is certainly not amused.

Sam crosses the room and makes her sit on the bed. Holds her hand. He's looking at the floor as he speaks.

"Dean was more than my big brother, okay? He's the one that took care of me when I was a kid, after my mom died. He fixed me lunch and dinner, got me to school, made sure I did my homework, put me to bed… That was his jacket and I started using when I was a kid because it…", Sam breathes. "Because it smelled like him. And it made me feel safe. When I came here, I didn't know anybody. I was a little scared to come at all. So… so I put his jacket in my bag and… and, well, now I like to wear it whenever I miss him".

Jess is sure her heart is breaking. Sam wears that jacket a lot. A lot.

She smiles, all fight in her gone, and gives the gentlest of kisses on his lips.

She doesn't hate the jacket anymore.


	3. He doesn't have the heart

Post S5 finale

Again, a little tweaking from the original post. This one's darker too.

**He doesn't have the heart**

When he tells Lisa he dreams of Hell, she thinks it's a metaphore and holds him close hoping he'll settle down and fall asleep again. He doesn't have the heart to tell her it's true. He doesn't have the heart to tell her there is a Hell, it's a real place, and he's been there, he's been dead, he should have stayed dead and now his brother is dead and that's where he is.

He falls asleep again, in her arms, because it has been a long time since his subconscious got unsettled by the idea of Hell and he doesn't get insomnia anymore.

He doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse.

He falls asleep in her arms and he dreams of Hell. Every night.

When he tells Lisa he dreams of Hell and it's not a metaphore, she thinks he dreams of being tortured and holds him close hoping her body can provide enough pleasure to heal the pain. He doesn't have the heart to tell her he isn't the tortured one in his dreams. He doesn't have the heart to tell her he's the torturer, he's not in pain, he's in pleasure, because he's a monster and he likes to feel bones breaking and souls crashing.

He falls asleep again, in her arms, because it has been a long time since his conscience has bothered with the idea of being a righteous man and he doesn't feel guilty anymore.

He doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse.

He falls asleep in her arms and he dreams of being a torturer. Every night.

When he tells Lisa he dreams of Sam, she thinks he's missing his brother and holds him close hoping she can fill the hole in his heart. He doesn't have the heart to tell her it's the same dream. He doesn't have the heart to tell her it's always the same dream, he's in Hell and he's a torturer and he's wrist deep in someone's chest and he's feeling pleasure from the pain when that someone looks up and it's Sam and it's Sam and it's Sam.

He falls asleep in her arms because it's been a long time since Sam's gone and if Sam's gone there really isn't much of a point in staying awake.

He doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse.

He falls asleep in her arms and he dreams of Sam. Every night.


	4. Sam is not stupid

Stanford era.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Sam was not stupid**

Dean thought Sam was stupid. Sam was not stupid. And even though he wasn't a hunter anymore, it's not like he could just switch off 20 years of training. He knew instinctively everyone that was ever in any room with him, knew the exits, knew by a glance if there was anyone in his vicinity with any sort of fighting training whatsoever.

And he most definitely knew when he was being followed.

He knew Dean was following him. Had been for the past two days. He knew Dean had broken in and checked out his new apartment and he would bet his right arm that his brother had done a background check on Jessica by now. Another one, that is.

He knew California had been suspiciously free of any supernatural activity of any kind ever since he moved in here. It's not like he ever went looking for jobs, but, again, he couldn't switch off his training and he did read the papers.

He knew Dean was following and he knew it was the fifth time he did so in the past twenty months. He did it a few days after Sam arrived at Stanford and moved in to the dorms. He did it again a few months later, when Sam got a new roommate. And then when he started dating Jessica. He showed up a fourth time, when Sam got some stomach flu bug and had to stay a night in the hospital. That time Dean followed him for two whole weeks. This time Sam moved in with Jessica, got a new place, and, as expected, Dean had been following him around since the day before.

Sam knew where Dean probably was getting the info. Pastor Jim or Bobby, most likely.

And he knew he should go after Dean and confront him about it. This was not a healthy sibling relationship. If Dean was worried about Sam, he could simply pick up a phone and call.

But Sam was not stupid and he knew his brother better than he knew himself. He knew it wouldn't make any difference at all. He could call Dean every single day, twice a day, hell, he could call him hourly and he was pretty sure Dean would still follow him around in the shadows, doing background checks and taking care of any suspicious activity in a 300 mile radius.

That was just the way his brother was. Couldn't help it. He was perfectly capable of staying almost two years without talking to Sam, but he was completely and utterly incapable of letting Sam go. Dean had ingrained in his brain that it was his job to take care of Sam and Sam had long ago given up trying to convince him otherwise.

So Sam said nothing. Did nothing.

But Sam was not stupid.

He knew when he was being followed.

And, of course, it helped that his brother's car could be heard from two blocks away.

"Have you noticed that creepy black car on the corner?", Jess asked. "I think I saw it in the campus this morning. And yesterday too. That's just… creepy…"

Sam just had to laugh out loud.

Dean was so stupid.


	5. Dean is so stupid

This is a ' drabble sequel' to the 'Sam was not stupid' drabble, but it works on its own too.

**Dean is so stupid**

"Have you noticed that creepy black car on the corner?", Jess asked. "I think I saw it in the campus this morning. And yesterday too. That's just… creepy…"

Sam just had to laugh out loud.

Dean was so stupid.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it", he offered.

Jess just looked suspicious from the window.

"Why not?"

Sam should have seen that coming.

"I'm sure it's nothing…"

"Samuel…"

God, he hated when Jess called him Samuel. It was worse than Sammy. Nobody ever called him Samuel.

She had her arms crossed in front of her body and the look of someone who was clearly at the end of her rope with all of Sam's lies and secrets.

"Ok… it's my brother, ok? You don't have to worry about it."

Jess's eyebrows skyrocketed at that.

"Your brother? Dean?

"Yeah, he's checking up on me. He does it every few months."

He could see Jess working that information on her brain. He had to smirk. He didn't even touch the tip of the tip of the tip of the mountain of weird that was his family.

"Why isn't he checking up on you… from here?"

"Well, because that's how Dean rolls… just let him be, he'll disappear in a couple days."

"Let him be? He's your brother, Sam! Go get him, ask him to come inside. I'm sure whatever it is you two…"

Sam cut her. "Look, the moment I step on the sidewalk, if he even suspects I got a

glimpse of him, he'll turn away and vanish"

"Well, why don't you call him, then? Tell him you saw him."

"Cause he'll swear to me he's halfway across the country, make fun of me saying I'm must be in love with him if I'm having hallucinations of seeing him everywhere and then proceed to turn away and vanish", Sam stated matter of factly.

"What… I… Sam! You're brothers. That's not… right"

If it was even possible, Sam fell a little more in love with Jess, the confusion playing on her face. He had to smile. He had to offer something.

"Look, Jess. It's ok. It's how he deals with it."

"With what?"

Sam sat on the couch. He had to sit for that one.

"Well…", he tried. "My dad ingrained two things in my brother's head. They are the core of his very existence. Two rules he must obey no matter what. Number one: he has to take care of me. Number two: he has to follow dad's orders to the letter", Sam explained.

"Now, at this moment, these two very fundamental rules are opposing each other. Dean still thinks it's his job to take care of me. He doesn't care that I am 21, that I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. It's irrational. I mean until the very last day I lived with him, every single morning, the first thing he'd do was look for me: if I was in the other bed, on the bathroom, having breakfast. I was almost 20. It's irrational, I gave up trying to convince him to let it go. He can't", Sam pause.

"And now my father's orders are to leave me the hell alone. And Dean is nothing if not obedient. He's a good son, he's a good soldier. My dad tells him to jump off a cliff, he stops to make sure I'm at a safe distance from the edge and then he jumps."

Jess was pretty much speechless.

"This is his way to deal with that. He has to take care of me, it's his job, but my dad ordered him to stay away, so he's checking up from afar. He's taking care of me, he's not disobeying dad, his world can continue to function."

"Okay, okay. I give up. I'll leave it alone", Jess offered.

"Good. Don't worry", he kissed her forehead. "I'll go grab a quick shower".

Jess walked back to the window. The car was still there. She took a deep breath, heard Sam turn on the shower. She breathed out.

"This is ridiculous", she muttered to herself.

She went to the kitchen, got a plate with the cookies she baked this morning and headed to the door.

The moment she stepped on the sidewalk and turned around, the car had vanished.


	6. Brothers have to stick together

Season 2

XXXX

**Brothers' have to stick together**

Dean has read that journal over a hundred times, front to finish. He's got parts of it memorized. Not only exorcisms and incantations, but pretty much every single time there is a mention of his mother, he knows it by heart.

Dean has read that journal over a hundred times, front to finish. But he has never read anything with his name on it. Everytime that jornal hits a capital D and the word seems short enough, he jumps the paragraph. He does the same when it hits an S. He can't do it. And he's sure his brother has done the same.

He can't read it. He can't do it. It's one thing to read about his father's hunts, that's learning, that's acceptable. It's one thing to read about the mother he lost, that's… forgivable. He can't read anything else, though. It's too personal, an invasion of his father precious privacy. And there's nothing else in there except him and his brother.

He can't do it. Because he doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to remember his childhood, the things they did, the monsters they faced. He doesn't want to remember how scared he was all the time. It's easier to live with the illusion that he was always fearless and invincible and confident in his superhero of a father.

He can't read it. For all of those reasons, all very valid. But he can't read it, above all, because he doesn't want to know. He doesn't think he will be able to deal with how his father felt about him. Really felt. What could be in there? The shtriga that almost got Sam killed? His failures? His father's fights with Sam? His disappointment with both his sons, the one who left and the one that couldn't keep him?

He can't read it.

But his father is dead now and before he died he had what had to be the world's worst dying wish ever. Just as it would suit him.

And now Dean can't help but wonder if there's a clue to the secret that is his brother among those Ss and Ds. He gets the journal. Takes a deep breath. And just starts fumbling through the pages.

He gets a D next to a S. Random. It suits him just fine. Just break the ice, read anything, the rest will be easier.

"_Now Dean tells me he cut off contact with Sam, and it's killing me. I can't stand the idea of the boys separated. It's one thing for me to take a stand, I'm the father, I have to lay down the law for the family. Maybe it's the Marine in me talking, and maybe it's not the right thing to do all the time, but it's gotten us this far. Now I'm questioning myself. Brothers have to stick together."_

_"Brothers have to stick together."_

He reads it again.

_"Brothers have to stick together."_

_"Brothers have to stick together."_

Dean closes the journal. He doesn't have to read anymore. He doesn't need a clue. Or anything, really.

Brothers have to stick together.

That's all he needs to read.


	7. No, no, no, no, no

Stanford. AU. Character death.

XXXX

**No, no, no, no, no.**

He's leaving his house with Jess, Zack and Chelsea waiting by the door, when his heart skips a bit or a dozen. In the corner of his eye, as he closes the door, he thinks he can see a slick black hood and no, no, no, no, it can't be, because it can't be anything good.

He turns around pretty sure he's not breathing and drops his books at the sight.

His father is standing against the driver's door, looking like he hasn't slept in days. Eyes downcast, shoulders slumped.

No, no, no, no, no.

Sam's stomach hurts in physical pain.

He's down the steps before he realizes he's moving and he can sense Jess and his friends hovering behind him but he doesn't care. No. No.

No, no, no, no, no.

He's fully intended on yelling, but what comes out of his mouth is a hoarse whisper and he's surprised at his voice breaking so soon.

"Where's Dean?"

His father flinches. And no, no, no, no, no. No.

"Dad…", he sees Jess jump a little in surprise and only then he realizes she's reached his arm.

"… where's…." Pause. No, no, no, no, no. Deep breath. No. "Where's Dean?"

A shallow whisper that sounds like "Sammy..." is his only answer and Sam's vision is tunneling.

No, no, no, no, no.

John straightens up, takes a deep breath, tries to look up. What Sam sees is a vision he never thought he'd live to see. His father's eyes are red and bloodshot and no. No.

No, no, no, no, no.

"He'd want you to keep the ca…"

And Sam's yelling now.

"I-don't-want-the-FUCKING-car-I-want-my-brother-WHERE-IS-HE? WHERE-IS-HE? WHERE-IS-HE? Dad? DAD! "

Sam's yelling, he's screaming and he's trashing and he's down and no, no, no, no,no and he doesn't realize his father is holding him with strong arms until his heart breaks because his father smells like Dean and no, no, no, no, it can't be.

No, no, no, no, no.


	8. Christmas gifts

Finally, a new one. Pre-series. Teenchesters.

I guess I needed a happier one.

XXX

**Christmas gifts**

It's Christmas 1996, but they don't feel like celebrating. Last hunt was a bust. The ghost killed the entire family it was haunting, because the Winchesters couldn't convince them to leave on time. And it almost took Dean with them.

Spirit separated them in the old building. Sam and John managed to stick together, but Dean was isolated and trapped. He broke his leg in three places, broke two ribs and layed there unable to move, bleeding out, for hours before his family managed to find him. His voice was hoarse with screaming by then.

John got the ghost, the next day. That was two days ago. They don't feel like celebrating at all.

Dean's lying on the bed and John is researching their probable next job when Sam enters the room, with a large bag and drops it on the coffee table.

"Merry Christmas", he deadpans and goes to sit on his bed.

"What is this?", John asks.

"It's your Christmas's gifts", Sam shrugs and tries to act nonchalantly, but John knows his son and knows when he's angry.

Dean doesn't seem to care, though. "Whoa, presents. Get me mine, come on".

John is eyeing the package suspiciously and Sam just gives up. Goes back to the table, grabs the package and takes it to Dean, instead.

His brother just dives right in to it.

"What… what is this?"

"Cell phones", Sam shrugs. Again. But John's smirks something akin to pride now.

"Cell phones? Why? Who are we going to call?"

"Each other", Sam answers in a way that only a 13 year old annoyed with his big brother might.

"Each other? We're around each other all the freaking time, Sammy…". Dean's not getting it.

"Are we?", Sam just sighs.

"Yes, Sam. We are. All. The. Freaking. Time. What, you miss me when I take a dump, you need to call me? Because that's pretty much the only time you're not in my face."

"Yeah, smartass? Was I in your face back in that building? Huh?", Sam's standing now.

"Wha…?"

"It took us three hours to find you, Dean. You almost bled to death. If we had cell phones, you could have called for help, you moron", Sam is exasperated and dawning finally descends on his brother's features.

"That's pretty smart thinking, Sammy", John concedes and moves to Dean's bed to get his box. "We should have gotten these before. How did you pay for it anyway?", he asks.

Sam looks sheepish now. "The credit card you gave me…"

Dean lets out a happy yelp. "Ha! I thought you were pretty against us using fake credit cards, Sammy…"

"Well, I'm pretty against you dying, too, Dean", is the retort and a look from John just stops the bickering on the spot.

"Pretty good thinking, son… But there's only two boxes here. Where's yours?"

Sam whips a black phone from his backpack. "I got mine set already… I'll give you the number when we set yours…" and when Sam looks back up he just has to laugh a little.

His father and his brother have their phones on their hands now and they look just like when they are trying to figure out ancient texts in Latin. He nudges Dean lightly to make room on the crowded bed.

"Here, let me show you… You put the battery here. They give it a little juice to make it out of the store, but we're going to have to plug them in so they can charge over night…"

Sam spends the next hour teaching them about text messaging and voice mail. Dean figures it out pretty quickly, he's always good with machinery in any shape or form. John managed to lock himself out of the phone three times, but he's not upset because Sam doesn't look angry anymore.

He's grinning and when John does it for a fourth time, Sam eyes just gleam with mischief as he blurts out. "Don't worry, old man, I'll teach you".

He gets a smack on the head for that, but John is grinning too.


	9. Bad mood

Stanford, pre-series.

XXXX

**Bad mood**

It has been two weeks since Pastor Jim called him asking if he'd heard from his brother. Two weeks since his heart almost gave out. Two weeks since he hadn't been able to concentrate on absolutely anything. Two weeks since his mood had taken a very, very sour turn and everyone of his friends that thought Sam was such an easy going guy started to consider a change of mind.

It was ten days since Bobby called him to tell him they'd found his brother and that he was hurt, but alive. Ten days since he felt relief for about eight seconds before turning to absolutely fucking pissed off, because Bobby didn't put Dean on the phone. They weren't together. Apparently Dean had lost his fucking phone and the only reason Bobby knew about him was because his father had fucking told him.

His father had told Bobby, but never thought of calling Sam.

He knew his dad was still pissed at him, he gathered that much. He'd been in Stanford for a year and every time he talked to Dean on the phone - which was an occasion that was beginning to become rarer and rarer - his brother avoided mentioning the man. That was the most obvious sign his dad was definitely not over him leaving.

He got that his father wouldn't call him, but would it kill Dean to find a god dammed phone himself? Really?

Sam had called Bobby and Pastor Jim both every other day trying to find out more. They claimed they didn't know more. Ok, so that was unfair with them both, he knew, but his brother went missing and got hurt and could have been killed and he only found out about it days after and goddammit, he's just in college, he didn't do anything wrong and Dean is still his brother.

All Pastor Jim knew was that Dean was in a solo hunt and after he missed three previously appointed check-ins with his dad, John went looking for him. And Sam just couldn't believe his dad waited for three (three!) misses before going to search for the only son he has now left. All Bobby knew was that his father found Dean, killed the thing that got him and that Dean was pretty beat up, but alive.

How beat up? They were both sure he was okay, but they didn't know. They didn't fucking know. Dean could be paraplegic for all they knew. It's not like his dad would care anyway. Again, unfair, Dean was John's golden child, but what sort of father waits so long to go after a son they sent in danger's way themselves? Huh?

Sam is pissed and getting angrier by the day. He's definitely not good company these days. He even had to reschedule that second date with Jessica Moore and he really wanted that second date with Jessica Moore. But he couldn't think or concentrate or have a date until he knew more about his brother.

His brother.

His brother who is now, apparently, in front of his building.

He's silent and sulking coming back to his dorm with Zack and Karen when he sees him.

He's there.

He's alive and he's there.

And now Sam is going to fucking murder him.

Dean gets out of the car when he sees him approaching and slaps on a shit eating grin Sam is sure he's gonna pound in a second. His left arm is in a cast almost all the way to his shoulder. He has a cut on his right eyebrown and Sam is pretty sure there's more stuff hiding beneath his clothes.

He shouts "I know what you're thinking…"

Do you, really, Dean?

"…my baby looks great on the California sun…", he widens his arms and his smile is fully plastered across his face now and Sam has to stop and take a breath to calm himself down. Zack and Karen are staring. Zack in confusion and Karen in the ways girls do when they see his brother. Enjoy that pretty face while you can, Kare.

"What are you doing here?", Sam tries to fake nonchalance from his side of the street.

"Well, Bobby said you were full-on bitch mode worrying about me for the last two weeks. By the way, cute, Sammy. So I decided to drop by, show you I'm still in one piece", he glances at his cast. "Well, mostly".

Sam crosses the street in three quick strides.

And punches Dean square on the jaw.

He hears Karen yelp. That will definitely cement easy-going-Sam for eternity.

Dean waits a moment, before he turns himself, cleans the blood from his cut lip - and Sam is so not sorry - before he's pouting in mock disappointment. "You hit your injured brother? What sort of man are you?"

Sam is not amused.

His finger is against Dean's chest (and there it is, he flinches, the idiot is hurt) and his face is inches away and he hisses. "You pull a stunt like that and you disappear? Next time you better be dead because I'll fucking kill you myself".

Dean's still smiling when Sam calmly adds. "I'll kill you, then I'm going to take your car to a back road and I'm going to torch it."

And Dean's not smiling anymore.

Sam turns himself back, but he feels his breathing coming back to normal now.

He hears Dean's "don't worry, baby, he doesn't mean that, he's just upset" and then apparently Dean notices Karen because he cuts himself short.

"Hi, I'm Dean."

And there, he done it. Sam feels like he's breathing for the first time in two weeks.

Dean is alive, cooing to his car and flirting with Sam's friends.

Sam is smiling for the first time in two weeks.


	10. The photograph

Yeah, I know, two chapters in a row. I should be sleeping. But I just saw a season 1 promo shot and then… this happened.

Stanford. I'm going to try to get out of the campus for the next one. :P

xxxx

**The photograph**

Jess knows she shouldn't be messing with Sam's stuff behind his back. She knows it. But he left his wallet on the nightstand and it's the first time in the year and a half they've been together she's been alone with the thing.

She knows it's a sign he's finally relaxing and trusting her and that she should leave it well enough alone. But Sam is such a mistery and she just has to solve him. And its not like he has that much stuff for her to sniff around, anyway. He moved in with a duffel, a backpack and a picture of his parents. Every single other thing on the apartment was Jess's.

It was just too tempting.

Sam is in the shower. Will be there for awhile at least.

She forgives herself and dives right into it.

At first, its nothing out of the ordinary. Some money, his ID, his student ID, his driver's license, credit cards, his insurance, a picture of her. There's a piece of paper with some weird language on it, maybe Latin. She doesn't know what it is, but puts it back in its place.

She's disappointed. And a little guilty. But mostly disappointed. No clues to her mistery there.

She takes a moment to look at herself in that picture. God, she hates it. She's smiling too much, she's almost deformed. She has no idea why Sam likes it. She has to give him a new one to replace it.

She takes the photograph out of its place when she finds another one hidden behind it.

She takes it out and is shocked.

Sam is younger in the picture, but not by much. He's sitting on the hood of a black old car, besides a blond guy, who's standing.

Sam is younger in the picture, but his eyes are older. His smile is there, but far more guarded. His hair is much shorter and she can tell by the arms that he's much fitter than he is now. He's tanned and looks dirty and dusty. They look like they are in a road with no asphalt whatsoever.

What calls her attention the most, though, isn't his physical appearance. It's the other stuff. There's an ammo belt across his chest, the kind she only ever saw in the movies, and he's holding a shotgun loosely with his left arm. There's a huge curved knife strapped to his waistband too.

The blond guy beside him is with similar attire. The ammo belt is loose on the hood by his side, though, and he has a silver gun on his hand like he's cleaning it. His head is almost bowed down and he's laughing, far more openly than Sam - who she can now tell seems to be in the middle of saying something.

It's a candid shot. Sam is saying something, the guy is laughing at him.

It's a candid shot of two people laughing while armed to their teeth.

Jess realizes she must be staring at the picture longer than she thought because she hears the shower being turned off.

She quickly turns the picture around and sees what's written on the backside:

"Sam and Dean, 2001, Arkansas."

Dean.

Sam's brother.

She quickly puts the photograph back in its place, the wallet back on the nightstand, jumps on the bed and pretends to be sleeping. Her heartbeat is going a million miles per hour.

One week later, she hears a loud noise and realizes Sam is not at the bed. She hears whispers following and goes to check it out. She finds him and Dean standing in the dark on her living room.

Sam is gone within the hour. And part of her knows she'll never see him again.


	11. Three years later

Season 5

XXXX 

**Three years later**

She's drinking with his brother now and they are laughing at some joke on the other side of the room and he can't help but notice all the little things that are different about her.

She's older, that much is a given. It's been three years since they had any form of proper contact. That little run in with War doesn't really count. They barely spent ten minutes in the same room before hitting separate roads.

She's a hunter now. Full on. He's seen her fight, her moves are good, precise, she is fast and what she lacks in muscle force she makes up in agility. And tonight she walked right past his shameful attempt of picking her up with a thrown out line about "self respect" that, he admits, stung a little.

He can't help but remember the cocky girl he met at the Road House three years ago, dumb enough to put a rifle right next to a hunter's back but brave enough to punch a man much bigger than her on the spot. He remembers how she would flirt with him with what he was pretty sure was a bad case of daddy issues. He remembers her innocence and bravado and he remembers trying to talk her out of this life. She had a choice, he told her.

But then he screwed up and she didn't anymore.

The frigging Apocalipse was on and they needed all the able bodied hunters in all states of experience for that war and she was drafted.

His heart breaks a little. In the end, she had no choice.

But, then again, neither did he, right? And he knows that as experienced and stoic as he was when he met her, he too was three years younger and three years more innocent.

Three years ago he had been a hunter for 23, he had seen his mother and father die and he was already running wild terrified that his brother would turn out evil. But even at that stage, life was so much simpler.

Sam hadn't died. He hadn't died. He hadn't been to hell yet and there were no angels, no Zachariah screwing with their heads, no Michael, no Lucifer, no Apocalipse.

If only he knew the Yellow Eyed Demon was so minor league… he would probably have asked her out. When they were young and as care free as their lives would ever allow them to be. When she still looked at him with longing, like he was special, somehow.

He took another shot at his beer.

The world is ending. They are hunting the Devil tomorrow.

And that's when he decides it.

If somehow they manage to survive tomorrow, he's asking her out.


	12. Bonnie to his Clyde

Season 2

XXXX

**Bonnie to his Clyde**

Sam Winchester's life ends on Milwaukee.

"He called you Bonnie to my Clyde".

He's sure his brother would be chuckling at that were he not so freaked out.

The feds were after them.

The feds were after them both.

Sam Winchester's normal life, the very thing he dreamed of for as long as he can remember, the thing he fought so hard for all the way from junior high, now it was definitely, forever, cemented out of his reach.

Sure, ever since his dad died, things were different. He hadn't thought about going back to college in months. He said it himself to Dean, didn't he? After they left Gordon tied up in that house. "Guess I'll have to stick around and be a pain in the ass, then."

He meant it too.

Jess' death sent him back into hunting. His father's death made sure he stayed there.

It was one thing to leave his family. It was another thing entirely to leave Dean alone.

He would never leave Dean alone.

The desperate hopelessness of the days after their father's death aside, his brother would never stop chasing the thing that killed their parents. Sam knew that. Just as he knew he would never leave Dean out there without a back up.

Sam knew that.

Sam was committed now.

Sam was a hunter.

But still part of his brain couldn't help but to take comfort on the idea that he could come back…_one day_. That maybe one day they'd actually be able to beat the demon that destroyed their lives. And then… things would be different.

There would be no more revenge for Dean to chase, so maybe Sam could convince him to settle down, maybe enjoy life a little. Maybe, with a little coaxing and arm twisting, but, maybe, Dean would be persuaded. He could have a normal life _and_ his brother.

Not that he actually thought about things like that. But it was in the back of his mind. Like a goal, a prize, something to achieve once this was all over.

Now that dream is over.

Sam is being chased by the feds, which means Dean is no longer the only one with a police record now.

Even if he forged documents under one of his many, many aliases, he could never go back to Stanford. Sam Winchester's file is now probably flagged with a big, bright, red '"CALL THE FBI IF HE EVER SHOWS UP" stamp.

And Sam wanted to be a lawyer, he knows how these things work. The feds probably interviewed every single person he ever met in Palo Alto, from friends to teachers, from neighbors to the janitor, about a hundred times each. They probably told them how dangerous he is, how they should contact the police _immediately _if they ever ever saw him again.

They now all probably think he had something to do with Jessica's death too.

Sam Winchester's life is over.

No going back.

He's Bonnie to Dean's Clyde.


	13. Whatever it takes

Season 3.

SPNSPN 

**Whatever it takes**

'_I fucking hate you, Dean, just leave me the fuck alone."_

The words are loud is his mind.

That was the worst fight he ever had with his brother. The absolute worst. The one before he ran away to Flagstaff, for his so prized two weeks of freedom.

"_I don't need you, Dean. You are just like dad, only weaker. You are blindsided by someone else's revenge. You're pathetic."_

Sam holds his brother's dead body closer.

"I needed you, Dean. I needed you then, I need you know. I never hated you, I never hated you. I need you."

He wants to crawl inside his own skin and burst open. Dean is dead. Dean is dead because of him. Dean is dead and in hell because of him and he doesn't deserve any of it.

He keeps remembering all the times he failed his brother. All the times he didn't appreciate all the things his brother did for him. Dean gave his life for Sam and now he gave his death and Sam just wants him to wake up for a second just so he can tell him he never wanted any of it, he just wanted Dean alive.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"_I am NOT sorry, Dean. I will NOT apologize to him. I have the right to go to college. And you know, what? I'd be out of here even if I didn't get the ride. I was just waiting for school to be over, for this to happen, so I could show you two. But I'd leave anyway. I couldn't wait to get away from the both of you. You're always on his side, Dean, always. Just do whatever the hell you two want to do and leave me the hell alone. Pastor Jim will let me know when to show up for your funerals."_

He left.

He left and he didn't see or talk to his brother for two years. How could he do that? How could he live without his brother for two years? How can he live without his brother for the rest of his life now?

Sam wants to find a way to come back in time and listen to his father and his brother, do it all over again. They were right. He should have listened. If he kept on with his training, maybe they would have gotten the demon that killed his mom sooner and easier. Maybe he'd be quicker or better and his father would be alive.

Maybe he wouldn't be stupid enough to turn his back on Jake. Then he wouldn't have died and now Dean wouldn't be dead.

Maybe they'd all be alive, Dean, his father, Jess. How many people he loved had died because he was whining like a little child that wanted the same toy all the other kids had?

"I'm sorry, Dean, I take it back, please come back. I never wanted you to save me, not like this."

Even if it didn't change a thing, he'd still have those two years with Dean. He would have given up anything, anything, for that. He could have had two years with his brother and he threw it away.

He threw two years away with the brother that literally went to hell for him.

Because Sam was weak. Because Sam was a coward. Because Sam refused to face his responsibilities.

Not anymore.

He's getting his brother back.

And if he can't, he's killing every single demon from here till Lilith.

And then he's going to kill her.

Whatever it takes.


	14. It always escalates

Pre-series. A scene mentioned in Hell House

SPNSPN

**It always escalates**

Sam is washing his hair in the shower and the first thing he thinks about when it starts to come out of his head is: "Witches!"

His father dismantled a covenant not two weeks before (not wasting a moment before plunging himself in the next hunt, Sam reminds himself). They were teenage girls, Dean's classmates from their previous school (fifth one this year, Sam reminds himself again), who clearly had no idea what sort of occult powers they were medling with. They were not pleased when John Winchester showed up at their parents houses and told them all about what their little girls were doing on their slumber parties.

Dad thought that would do it.

Clearly, it didn't.

His hair is coming out of his head in chunks and he's terrified, because he knows this is only the first step. He has to find the hexbag.

"Dean! Dean! Help!"

His brother barges in the motel bathroom not three seconds later. "What, Sam? What?"

"Witches, the witches… we gotta find the hex bag", Sam puts a tower over his waist and is still covered in soap when he starts looking around the bathroom desperately.

It takes him a second to realize Dean is not helping.

Dean is not helping at all.

In fact, he's… laughing? He's laughing.

He's laughing so hard he's supporting himself at the doorframe.

Oh.

"You jerk".

Sam latches on to him, but Dean's faster.

"Oh, come on, baldy, don't be like that…"

Dean runs out the door before Sam has a chance to catch him, but it's alright, he'll get his payback.

When Dean returns, Sam is giving him the silent treatment. "Oh, come on, you're not talking to me now?"

Dean's weary, but Sam's patient. He waits four whole days, only talking to his brother the strictly necessary, until he realizes Dean's dropping his guard.

On the fifth night, Dean goes to the bathroom and leaves the Coke he's been having laying open on the nightstand. It's all the opening Sam needs.

He moves fast and silent and crushes two pills in the can before his brother comes back.

Dean is out cold in fifteen minutes. Sam rejoices.

He takes out his razorblade.

Payback.

xxxx

When John Winchester goes back to the motel after a successful hunt, he's surprised that, for once, Dean is not the first one that awakes at his entrance.

Sam jumps out of his bed, hand firm against his Taurus.

Sam jumps out of his bed, hand firm against his Taurus… and he's completely bald.

"What the hell…?"

John turns on the light.

Dean blinks groggily, forcing himself up. "Wha… huh… what?"

Dean blinks groggily, forcing himself up… and his eyebrows are missing.

John Winchester stares at his sons for a long moment, considering the best course of action.

Dean is looking at him in confusion. Sam looks mildly concerned.

"You know what… I don't wanna know."


	15. The Winchester way

Stanford

SPNSPN

**The Winchester way**

It's such a stupid domestic accident, Dean will have a field day if he ever finds out about it.

Jess is cleaning the kitchen. Sam doesn't notice the wet floor and before she can warn him, he slips and hits his head on a chair. Hard.

If he were anyone else he'd probably only have a headache and a mighty bump, but he's Sam Winchester and he has had his fair share of concussions during his 21 years, so, of course, his body just automatically shuts down to protect itself from what it thinks is an obvious attack and falls unconscious.

For two days.

When he wakes up in the hospital, it takes him a moment to realize he wasn't attacked. But the most surprising thing is the weight on his right arm. A blonde head sleeping by his bedside.

Jessica.

Jessica is here.

"What are you doing here?", he asks.

She jumps awake and were he not so confused by the sight, he would feel guilty.

"You're up…. oh, good. Good, I was so worried", she jumps ahead and hugs him.

He's still confused.

"Jess… Jess, what are you doing here?"

"What do you mean what am I doing here? You were hurt. Where else would I be?"

And, right.

Right.

Where else would she be?

He wasn't attacked. He slipped on his kitchen floor.

He has a normal life.

And normal people stay at their loved ones bedside when they are hospitalized.

That's the normal way.

That's not the Winchesters' way.

Winchesters don't do bedsides. Bedsides are for quitters and civilians and cowards.

When their loved ones are hospitalized, Winchesters are out.

They are looking for a way to fix whatever is wrong or to get whoever or whatever hurt them. Even if there's nothing to fix or hunt, they are out trying to come up with a plan to break their loved ones from the hospital. Because Winchesters don't get released from hospitals, they sneak out before their insurance craps out or the police finds them.

Winchesters show they care by staying as far away as they can from their loved one's bedside.

When the doctor comes later that afternoon to release him and wish him good luck, he realizes he never left a hospital by its front doors in broad daylight before.

He chuckles, Jess wonders, he says it's nothing.

He's Sam Winchester, leaving a hospital by its front doors on broad daylight after slipping on his kitchen floor.

Dean would have a field day.


	16. Next thing, new school

**Next thing, new school**

Dean is seven, and two months into his very first school, when he freaks his entire classroom by saying his mother was killed by a monster.

Next thing, new school.

Sam is seven, and a month into his very first school, when he tells his friends his father is a secret agent and that he hasn't been home in the last few weeks.

Next thing, new school.

Dean is ten when he cuts his hand playing with a knife he shouldn't be carrying and the school nurse realizes all his fingers had been broken in the past.

Next thing, new school.

Sam is nine when a classmate makes fun of his brother's clothes and he shouts Dean is a hero who killed a man to save him.

Next thing, new school.

Dean is twelve when he knocks a seventeen year-old out cold for bullying his brother in less than three seconds.

Next thing, new school.

Sam is eleven when a classmate goes to his backpack to borrow a pencil without telling him and finds a .45.

Next thing, new school.

Dean is thirteen when he shows up in school driving his father's 67 Chevy.

Next thing, new school.

Sam is thirteen when he passes out in the classroom and the school nurse finds an infected bullet wound in his shoulder.

Next thing, new school.

Dean is fifteen when a girl's father finds her in the Winchester's apartment and realizes there's no parent home.

Next thing, new school.

Sam is fourteen when he doesn't notice he dropped a picture from his backpack in the corridor that has he and his brother posing with shotguns.

Next thing, new school.

Dean is sixteen when he gets fake IDs to everyone in detention and someone lets it slip.

Next thing, new school.

Sam is seventeen when a girl covers his eyes with her hands to surprise him and his reflexes break her jaw.

Next thing, new school.

Dean is seventeen when he puts on a suit to get his father out of jail and realizes his principal is the sheriff's wife.

Next thing, new school.

Sam is eighteen when he's so drunk he's almost passing out in a bar with his brother and gets helped up by his math teacher.

Next thing, new school.

Dean is eighteen and Sam is nineteen when they graduate high school and John just can't believe they really fucking did it.


	17. When Ellen saw

**When Ellen saw**

When Ellen saw Dean Winchester again, after twenty something years of wondering about the kid, all she could see was John Winchester. The boy had the same devastated look his father had when she met him. The look of a broken man dealing with an impossible loss. His face was set and stoic but his eyes burned with raw pain and, like his daddy before him, he didn't care about a soul whose last name wasn't Winchester.

After he and his brother walked back into her roadhouse, strolling by the tables as if they remembered Sam learned to walk there, she started to look at Dean Winchester and see Bill Harvelle. Young Bill Harvelle, in all his cocky, over confident glory. The leather jacket, the silver gun in the waistband of his ripped jeans, the military buzz cut, the muscle car, that damned grin. That wink that let girls know he wanted them and there was not a thing in the world they could do to resist him.

She could see Jo falling for Dean Winchester, just as she fell for young Bill Harvelle. And she fell hard. But Ellen knew it was a dead end. For all Jo's daddy issues, and they were plenty, Dean had mommy issues in spades and Joanna Beth wasn't raised to be no grown man's mother.

Which, of course, brought her to how she saw Dean Winchester most of the times. Most of the times, when she looked at Dean Winchester she wished he was Dean Harvelle. Boy might repeat his "lady, I'm fine" act all he wanted and he could grow old to a hundred, a part of him would always be the scared little kid that saw his mommy burn to death.

Ellen's heart broke for him every day, from the moment she met him as an over matured five year-old putting himself between the world and his baby Sammy to the day he sank in her arms after losing his brother and his soul in the same day. She wrapped her arms around him in Bobby Singer's salvage yard and let him cry his heart out, felt him clutching her clothes with closed fists and prayed to Mary Winchester to send some light out for Ellen to know how to help her boys.

Three years and some later, when she saw him again, she saw Dean Winchester as no one other than Dean Winchester himself.

All thoughts of revenge washed away from his mind as it could only happen to a man that went through the literal Hell. He was no longer John Winchester.

All the over confidence of youth and bright smiles disappeared in tortured eyes and even when he stumbled his way to a pick up line, little Joanna Beth was no longer charmed by his ways. He was no longer Bill Harvelle.

All his hidden need for love and caring vanished and he flinched away from Ellen's eyes and touches as if they were a nuisance in the way of a man with a mission.

He would never let himself be Dean Harvelle.

And it broke her heart.


	18. No, he can't

Pre-series.

SPNSPN

**No, he can't**

"_So, what colleges are you applying for?"_

Sammy tried for nonchalance as he asked the question, packing his backpack. It was two weeks after they left Truman High. Kid had been all about deep thoughts and long silences since then. Dean still remembers his quick answer.

"_Hunting college. They have this amazing teacher. His name is John Winchester."_

Sam just rolled his eyes.

"_Seriously, Dean. You should at least try, you know?_

"_Ya know, Sammy? That's a good idea… why haven't I thought of tha… oh, no, wait… how old are you again?"_. Sam just glared at him. _"Right, right. Who's going to watch out for you if I go to college, huh?"_

His brother sat on the motel bed, backpack forgotten. His shoulders were slumped and his voice was tentative. _"Well, I could… you know… go with you."_

And that was what that was all about.

At Dean's silence, Sam just kept going.

"_I mean… wherever you wanted to go, I could just finish high school there. We'd still be together… and it's not like dad doesn't ditch us all the time". _It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes and Sam quickly averted his train of thought. _"I mean… maybe he won't mind, you know? He must have some concern about our education if he wants us to finish high school so bad…"_

Kid had a point. Dean had tried to drop out for years now, but the old man had been hell bent on him getting his useless diploma. Still… _"Why would I need college, Sammy?"_, was his answer. _"I have a job. I'm a hunter."_

"_Uncle Bobby is a hunter and he still works as a mechanic. Pastor Jim is a hunter and runs the church. Even Caleb has his gun store… Dad is the only full time hunter we know. You could have both…"_

He could.

He could have both. Not that he really cared about it, really. But Sammy had a point. And it would be good for the kid to settle down for a few years, wouldn't it?

His brother's arguments kept playing in his mind as he stared at the letter in his hands. Kansas State. 'We're pleased to inform you…'

Sam wasn't back from his soccer practice yet. Dad was out on a job. It was just Dean and his letter.

Kansas State.

'We're please to inform you…'

"_Maybe he won't mind."_

"_You could have both."_

"_I could… you know… go with you."_

The door swung open and his father barged in.

His bleeding father.

He bolted from his seat, shoving the paper on his pocket and grabbing his father's arm to keep him from falling down. "Dad!"

John Winchester was bleeding, bad, but it was nothing he hadn't taught his son how to fix. Dean patched him up with practiced efficiency, heard all about the hunt, how the wendigo jumped his father, how John believed he wasn't fast enough, how the kids he was trying to save died.

Dean got him painkillers, helped him to a bed, then put an arm on his father's shoulder.

"At least that thing won't get anyone else, dad. It's a good day on the job in my book."

His dad gave him a small smile before he let himself slip unconscious.

Dean watched him for a minute, then went to the small bathroom.

He took out the letter with his father's blood still staining his fingers.

"_You could have both."_

He ripped it in pieces then flushed them down the toilet.

"Sorry, Sammy. I can't."


	19. The closest thing

Early S5.

SPNSPN

**The closest thing**

Sam wasn't snooping around.

First, because he was getting something *for* Bobby, who wanted a book that was on his bedroom to do some research while the doctors kept him in the hospital. "Gotta try to make myself useful…", he mumbled.

Second, because the house was pretty much his and Dean's too by now. They both had keys, they knew the pass codes of all the safes. They gave up on the storage space they rented after Jess's death years ago and now stored all the stuff they couldn't carry around in the Impala there: winter gear during the summer, a lot of Dean's weapons and Sam's books and a whole bunch of disguises they wore in previous jobs (who knew when Dean would need those red shorts for a hunt again, right?).

Bobby's spare room had become their room for years now, even if they both tended to sleep on the living room more often than not.

It was the closest thing to home he and his brother ever knew, really.

So, technically, he wasn't snooping around when he found it. It was an accident. He was going through Bobby's books when a envelope fell on the floor. And when he read what was written on the outside, how could he not open it? Really?

It was Bobby's will.

Sam stood there looking bewildered at the thing for a moment.

Bobby's will.

It made sense. Bobby had things. Not just weapons, books and disguises, like him and Dean, but a house and a business. And Bobby was a hunter, he was in imminent risk of dying every day of his life even before he started helping out the Winchesters during the frigging Apocalypse.

Sam opened the envelope without really thinking.

And got even more shocked when he read the document.

"I, Robert Stephen Singer, leave all my belongings - my house, my salvage yard, my cars, my money and whatever else I might have in my name by then - to my two sons."

His sons.

His sons?

Bobby had kids?

Sam stared dumbly at the paper in his hands.

How come he never knew Bobby had kids?

A sick feeling turned in his stomach, God, did Bobby's kids left him, like Sam had left John before?

That couldn't be, he had to… he found another envelope, a smaller one, inside.

He took it out. And his heart lifted.

There were IDs, birth certificates, insurance cards. For Samuel and Dean Singer. Complete with photos and all.

He held 'Samuel Singer's ID in his hand and stared at himself in the picture.

He was younger there. Much younger. He couldn't be more than 18, he could tell because his hair had never been that short since then.

That was… before everything.

Before he went to Stanford. before he got back to hunting and knocked on Bobby's door asking for help for his father. Before his father died and before Bobby took his place as guardian and counselor. Before they made his house their home.

Long before Bobby became the only family they had left, they had already become his family. His "sons".

Sam took out the IDs from the envelope, put them both in his wallet. His real wallet, the one with Jess and Dean's pictures and a small card his father gave him from his birthday when he was 9. There wasn't a thing in there with the name "Sam Winchester" on it.

Sam Singer would be the closest thing.


	20. Been here before

Pilot.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

**Been here before**

He turns the Impala around after a few blocks. He has to let Sam know… that he understands. Hell, that he thinks Sam's doing the right thing. 'Cause he does. It's just… he misses Sam. He misses Sam so much that the feeling tends to cloud everything else. It's like all he can feel is this thing and he wears it on his sleeve and that's all Sam sees.

And isn't that what got them on this mess to begin with? Sam spent the last two years thinking Dean was mad at him when all this time Dean has done pretty much nothing without the ache of missing his brother running in the background.

Sam believed he was mad at him so Sam stayed out of touch and Dean thought Sam was the one who was mad. They didn't speak for two years for an honest to God misunderstanding.

A misunderstanding, he snorts. He and Sam shouldn't have misunderstandings. They spent nineteen years attached to the rib, they should be able to read each other's minds by now.

But they don't. They can't. And that's how this mess got so big.

Now, he has to go back. Because Sam left the car with the distinct feeling Dean was hurt. And he was… he really was. He is. But he is also… hell, proud.

Sammy is doing his own thing. And his own thing is getting accepted in one of the most prestigious law school's in the country ('cause he's totally going to nail that interview, Dean's positive). That's a thing most *normal* kids don't get to do. The ones with nuclear families, stable homes, steady educations. And Sammy is going to do it.

So, maybe Dean didn't screw him up so bad, after all.

He turns the car around 'cause he'll be damned if they are going to start this shit up again. He has to tell his brother how he really feels about this Stanford business. In a manly-non-chick-flick way. But he's doing it.

When he parks the car in front of Sam's building, though, a orange light coming from the window is all Dean can see. He counts. One, two, three floors.

Sam's place.

He flies up the stairs before he can even notice his legs are moving.

And then he stops.

The heat.

The light.

The fire.

He's standing at the door of Sammy's room and there's fire. He's been here before.

Sam's loud yell snaps him out of it, because whatever else has been ingrained in his brain, Sam in distress always trumps it.

He goes inside the room and for a second, a second, he looks up.

A second that feels like forever.

Blond curls. White gown. Burning. Burning.

Jessica.

Mom.

Burning.

He's been here before.

Then, a loud thunder in his head.

"TAKE YOUR BROTHER OUTSIDE AS FAST AS YOU CAN. DON'T LOOK BACK. NOW, DEAN, GO."

He grabs Sam and runs. He doesn't look back.

Sammy is heavy in his arms and going with him down the stairs is a struggle. He's been here before.

He stops at the sidewalk before realizing he's waiting for his dad to come down and save them. He's been here before.

But dad's not there.

He drags Sam to the hood of the Impala and his brother collapses in a tight ball on the street, shuddering sobs rocking him hard. He looks at Dean with huge, red, raw and lost eyes, like he's not really grasping what's going on.

But Dean has been here before, on a street, in front of a fire, at the Impala's hood, with his brother screaming, begging him with his eyes to fix it all.

He can't fix it.

But he has been here before. And he knows how to make Sammy stop crying.


	21. Not before eveything

Season 2

SPNSPNSPN

**Not before everything**

John sits still at the bedside watching his son.

Dean.

He's having a hard time adjusting the image of the broken man in the hospital bed in front of him with the bubbly toddler he were as a kid.

Dean.

"My little angel", Mary used to call him. John used to think so too. Those bright green eyes, his long blond hair, always smiling, always babbling about something, flying down the front steps the minute the Impala turned the corner. A true angel.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!".

John remembers a different Dean. A little kid he used to play ball with and take to ice cream stands on Sunday mornings. Such a loving child. Does Dean even remember that time?

When she got pregnant with Sammy, Mary was so worried Dean would be jealous. She read books about how to introduce an younger sibling to an only child, talked to other mothers, made a special meal the day she decided to tell him he was getting a little brother or sister. Such nonsense. Dean was ecstatic about Sammy, fell in love with his brother long before Mary even looked pregnant.

All he wanted to talk about was his brother. His "brother". He was so sure it was a boy, John and Mary weren't even surprised when the doctor told them.

He was inseparable from his mother those nine months. Always around her, always wanting to touch her belly, always talking to his unborn brother. "_I'm going to teach you all about soccer…_"

By the time Sammy was born, Mary had let go of all worries about jealousy from Dean.

Jealousy from Dean. Huh. Twenty-three years later and the expression still makes no sense. Dean was never jealous of anything in his life. Not of any of the kids with stable lives and families. Not of any girl he ever went out with. And most definitely never, ever, of his brother.

Sam was his entire life, long before his brother became his responsibility. Before Mary's death, he was his constant companion in the nursery. After it… he was as good as Sam's shadow.

John remembers going to their room in the weeks following the fire and finding Dean asleep inside Sammy's crib, his brother in his arms. Next morning he realized Dean, at four years-old, had learned to change diapers. The boy didn't utter a word to anyone except Sammy for weeks.

By the time John got them out of the house they were staying and took them to the road, where they would stay for over the next twenty years, Dean had become Sammy's sole guardian and protector. Hindsight is 20-20 and now John thinks he should have done something about it. But then… he thought Dean could use the distraction, that the connection could help him heal.

John never realized it implied Dean growing up at age four. Missing his childhood. John never realized it would cement the hole in his son's soul. He was consumed with revenge and Dean finding focus on Sam just made it all so easy.

Easy. Dean made everyone's lives easier. He raised his brother, he kept his father sane.

How would either of them survive without him?

"_You have to have realistic expectations, Mr. McGillicudy. Chances are your son may never wake from this…"_

The doctor's words are like a mantra in the back of his mind.

"_Your son may never wake from this."_

But they aren't the only ones.

"_Truth is, they don't need you. Not like you need them. Sam - he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you."_

He was awake for all of it. Demon made sure John watched as he ripped his son physically and emotionally. It was all lies.

When he started talking, John thought Dean would see right through it. It was all lies. Of course Dean knew his father cared for him. Needed him. Dean was the one that pulled their family through all, if anyone was necessary for the Winchesters to function, it was Dean. He knew that. Surely, he knew that.

But the look on Dean's eyes… He didn't know it. The demonic son of a bitch was playing his son and Dean was being torn apart from inside out. He thought…Dean believed the demon was right.

The horror of it all was what snapped John out of it, just long enough for Sam to reach the Colt. It was over. It was over, Sam was going to end it, but then Dean's voice was there.

"_No, Sammy. No. Don't do it."_

And now. Now they are here. And his son is going to die thinking his family doesn't need him, when his family wouldn't even exist without him.

Dean is broken and John missed it. Dean is broken and it wasn't the demon's doing. It wasn't any supernatural creature's fault. Dean is broken and that is on John. His fault.

How did that little kid turn into this? What would Mary think of John now if she saw what he did to her little angel? Is that what Mary would've wanted? Is this worth it?

"_Killing this demon comes first. Before me, before everything."_

"_No, sir. Not before everything."_

Sam.

Sam.

What will Sam do if Dean dies? Dean is the only real parent Sammy really has. 'Dean' was the first word out of his mouth, Dean was the one he called out when he was sick as a kid, Dean's bed was the one he crawled into when he had a nightmare.

"_No, sir. Not before everything."_

Is the revenge worth it if it makes Dean think his family only needs him as an attack dog?

Is the revenge worth it if it makes Sam lose another parent?

Is the revenge worth it if it John loses Dean?

"_No, sir. Not before everything."_

In the end, it's not even a choice at all.


	22. A small window of understanding

Tag to 6x01.

SPOILERS. Light spoilers, really, but you have been warned. Don't read it if you didn't see the episode.

**A small window of understanding**

Ben was playing with his Nintendo DS in the kitchen, absorbed in it like he didn't even care what went on around him. So Lisa took a moment to herself in the porch, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

That was an… odd house. And an odd host, on top of that.

But Dean trusted the man and she trusted Dean. Dean had saved her life and her baby's life. Not only when he killed the monster that haunted them so many years before, but now. The last year. Dean saved Ben's life, he was the father his real father never wanted to be. She trusted him like no one else. Sure, he had his issues, but his heart was in the right place. Dean was a good man. She trusted him.

She loved him.

She spent her entire youth looking for cheap thrills and fiery passions. That was exactly what had attracted her to him in the first place, after all. A hot dangerous looking stranger, leather jacket, muscle car. Dean Winchester was all young Lisa Braeden wanted in a guy: sexy, mysterious, hot. Hot. Did she mention hot?

How would she know Dean Winchester would become all grown-up Lisa Braeden wanted in a man? Caring, nurturing, family-oriented. Hot, in the end, was just an added benefit.

When she was young, she believed love burned like fire, so she spent her entire youth looking for smoke signals only to realize, in her thirties, that love didn't hurt. Love was peace and understanding and caring and a man that was good to her and her boy.

She loved Dean. She trusted Dean.

And if Dean needed her to stay in his friend's Bobby's house for a couple of days to ease his mind, she could give him that.

"Hey."

Bobby's gruff voice interrupted her train of thought.

"So, still no TV… but I think I found something that could entertain you for awhile…"

He offered her a small wooden box. She took it curiously before he offered "I'm somewhat of a photography buff". Then he disappeared back inside the house.

The pictures in the box were in no particular order. There weren't that many, just a couple. Definitely not enough to make for a lifetime, but somehow she was sure that there were all the record she was ever going to get of Dean's childhood.

The first one looked almost recent. Dean was not that younger, just a few years, and she only noticed it because Sam looked a hell of a lot different. He had bangs in his hair and even though he wasn't exactly thin, he was definitely not as bulky as the dead man that showed up in her kitchen the previous day.

They were sitting on the hood of Dean's Impala, laughing at something. Dean smile was open and raw in a way she never saw him smile and it hurt a little. Sam's smile was like a ray of sunshine and he looked so much younger.

In the next photograph. they were kids. A blond child with Dean's features held a toothy smiling brown-haired toddler in his lap, party hats on both their heads. She checked the back on that one. A child's handwriting. "Sammy's birthday, May 1987". 1987. Dean was… 8. He looked older, though. He told her he took care of Sam when they were growing up, she just never realized it started so soon.

In the third photograph they were teenagers and Dean definitely looked like Dean. There were no markings on the back, so she had to guess at his age. He looked 16, maybe 17. Sam looked about Ben's age, but he had a gun on his waistband. The realization hit her like a brick. When the Winchesters were Ben's age, her sweet, innocent, baby Ben's age, they already carried guns around and chased monsters.

Sure, Lisa knew that. Dean had told her that. But seeing the image… it was a different thing.

She went on to next one though and the pain eased a bit. It was a strip with multiple photographs, the ones you take in a booth. They were a little younger. Now Dean looked Ben's age, adorable freckles covered his face. He and Sam made faces in each little square, like happy little normal kids did. She laughed quietly.

She moved through a few of the pictures, taking her time until she got to one were there were not two people on the image, but three. It was a posed photo and they looked like they were coerced to participate, but they were smiling, nonetheless. Dean more openly, an honest-to-God smile like she never see him give. Pure. Happy. Sam smiled timidly, looking down, as if laughing to an inside joke. And the man in between them… He looked like Dean but he had Sam's hair and eyes. She didn't have to guess who he was, but she looked at the back anyway. "Dean, John and Sam. Christmas, 2000".

John. Dean's dad? Had to be. He never mentioned his name. In the past year Dean spoke very little of his brother and none of the rest of his family. She knew his mother died when he was a child. And she knew his father was alive when she met him the first time, she remembers him excusing himself a couple times during that weekend to take a call "from the old man". When he resurfaced in her life and never mentioned his father again, she didn't really need to ask what had happened to him.

Lisa took her time with the pictures, treasuring each one of them like the precious gift they were. A small window of understanding of the man she loved.

Hours later, when Ben called for her and she closed the little wooden box, she couldn't help but notice. In all the dozens of pictures, taking from different years and with different people, there weren't a single one of them where Dean or Sam were alone. 

The Winchester brothers were always together.


	23. Lisa remembers

**A/N:** Ok, so I went through a Jess phase, now I'm apparently going through a Lisa phase. :P I was really committed to hating Lisa's guts, but then Friday's episode was on and Lisa turned out to be a pretty sensible lady. Smart move, Sera, smart move.

So, here it is. A very small spoiler for 6x01, barely anything at all, really. Spoilers for "99 Problems".

This has been on my mind since "Point of No Return", because it seemed like an obvious scene. Now "Exile" made me write it.

**Lisa remembers **

Of course Lisa remembers Sam. How could she forget him? She may not have seen much of him when Dean showed up four years ago, but she saw him again after that. She never told Dean about it. She couldn't in those first few weeks, when Dean was so torn with grief. And after that, she just didn't want to upset his healing.

But she remembers Sam.

Sam showed up on her doorstep a little over a year ago. A few hours after Dean knocked on her door talking like he was about to jump off a bridge, a few days before she let him back in her life for what she hoped was for good.

There was a loud knock and for a second she thought Dean had come to his senses. What she saw instead was a very distraught, very tall man blurting "is Dean here?" the instant she opened the door.

She recognized him when his eyes fell and he whispered a curse at her denial, seconds before he took a deep breath and offered "I'm Sam".

"He was here", she told him. "A couple hours ago… he was pretty upset, Sam. He didn't really seem to be in his right mind."

"I know. I know…", he said, eyes closed, supporting himself at her doorframe. She could see they were brothers, even if they didn't look that much alike. Sam's eyes were closed and tight, his hand over his mouth the way Dean's had been when he was standing at the exact same spot mere hours before. Same body language.

His desperation was the final straw for her. Lisa had been worried sick since Dean left. Had called the number she had for him when he was barely out of the block, only to find out it had been disconnected. She got her car and drove around town looking for him, but found nothing. There was nothing she could do, nowhere she'd know how to find him, no one to contact.

And now his brother was there and the pain and worry in his eyes were all the confirmation she needed that she was not overreacting at all. Dean was in trouble. She felt her eyes tingle and grabbed Sam's arms.

"Sam, I think… I think he might do something stupid", she heard her voice break. "I think he might…"… she couldn't say it… "… hurt himself", she whispered.

"I won't let him", Sam's voice was strong and certain. He held her hands and looked her straight in the eyes. "Lisa, I won't let him. I promise".

Then he turned away and started back to his car, where a man with a trenchcoat waited.

When he was barely out of the steps, he stopped, as if thinking of something. He turned around and looked at her. His question was as straight forward and firm as his earlier promise:

"Do you love him?"

It took her off guard and she lost her breath there, for awhile. She let her eyes fall from his questioning look and felt tears down her face. When she finally whispered she wasn't sure she was answering him or herself.

"Yeah… yeah, I do".

When she looked back at him, he was nodding, slowly. He looked in her eyes again and let another promise out: "I'll make sure he comes back to you."

Weeks later when Dean, drunk and hurting and crying, confessed to her his brother made him promise to come to her, she started crying and he was afraid he'd hurt her feelings.

She didn't know how to tell him she was mourning Sam as well.


	24. Jess remembers

Pre-series.

**Jess remembers**

Jess remembers Dean. He acts like he's never seen her before when he shows up in her living room and she follows his lead, even if she's not sure why it's so important Sam doesn't know about their previous encounter. But she promised Dean back then and she'd keep her promise.

She met Dean over an year ago, a little while after she and Sam moved in together. Sam was sick. Really sick. It started with what looked like a common cold, but after a few days it took a turn for the worst. He got a real high fever, but refused to go to a hospital. By the time Jess managed to find a couple of male friends big enough to carry Sam to the E.R. he was full on delirious.

He had called for his brother the first nights, mumbling in his sleep. She considered getting his cell phone and calling Dean, but what was she going to say? "Hi, remember the brother you cut ties with? He has a cold and been calling your name, just thought you should know." Right.

When he got to the hospital, though, Sam started yelling for his brother, his screams raw and desperate. Jess tried to reach out for him, but he just looked at her with unfocused eyes. "Where's Dean? Get me out of here! Dean!". He trashed and turned and fought in the gurney and when a male nurse tried to restrain him, he knocked the man out with a single punch, before jumping to his feet, never stopping screaming his brother's name.

A second before he lost control and fell to the floor, an arm in a leather jacket appeared in the crowd out of nowhere to take Sam by the elbow. "Hey, hey, I'm here, I'm here, Sam. Sam!".

She had no idea where he came from, how he'd know they were in the hospital, anything. He just materialized there and for a second all eyes were on him.

His were on Sam, still trashing against his grip. "Hey, hey, Sammy, it's me. It's Dean. Look at me, look at me, Sammy". Sam's eyes were wild when his brother forced his chin up but locked on when he recognized who he was calling out for. "D… Dean? Dean?"

Dean smiled at him. "Yeah, man, it's me, I'm here. You with me? You with me?", he asked and Sam didn't move. Just stared there. "Hey, I got you, ok? I got your back. Now, ride it out. Deep breaths, come on, settle down". Dean took a deep breath as if showing the way and after a second, Sam started to hiccup his way into trying to mimic it. "There you go, that's my boy".

Sam breathed in and out a few times, before his body went limp and his head went to rest at Dean's shoulder. His brother cupped the back of his neck and let his head fall, his forehead almost, but not quite touching the top of Sam's head. "Okay, Sammy. Okay, now you gotta let the good doctors help you, okay?"

The hospital staff waited there. Sam just shook his head. "No… hospitals… just…no". Dean took him by the shoulders. "It's okay, dude. Got your back. You can go with them, it's cool". He settled Sam back against the gurney. "Promise?".

"Yeah, Sam, I do". Sam sat there for a moment, looking doubtful. Dean shook his arms. "Hey, have I ever broken a promise to you?". Sam just whispered something that sounded like a "no". "So, not starting now. You can go, it's okay".

Apparently convinced, Sam settled back down and the doctors continued on their way. Jess just stood there, so beyond confused. "You family?", a nurse asked. Dean nodded. "Okay, I need you to fill out some forms, but first I need to know if he has any allergies or any medical history we should know about".

"Penicillin", he answered. "He had knee surgery when he was 16, but it was pretty minor. His shoulder pops out if you even look at it wrong". Jess had no idea, of any of those things.

As the nurse left, she jumped him. "You're Sam's brother?", she asked, but he just stared at her with tired eyes. The caring older brother replaced with an empty shell, in less than a minute. "I'm Jessica. This is Walt and Zack. We go to school together". Dean barely looked at the guys, just shrugged.

"Awesome."

He went to sit at the far corner of the waiting room. Jess was… dumbstruck.

After a few hours, a doctor came and called "Winchester" and Dean jumped at the name. When he got up and went inside, Jessica motioned to follow, only to be stopped by a nurse. "Family only, miss, I'm sorry."

She called out for Dean, but he just kept going. When the nurse stepped aside, believing her job was done, Jess raced after him. "Hey, hey, I know you don't know me, but I'm his girlfriend. We're living together. Please, please… please, just tell them. I'm worried about him…".

Dean stared at her for a long moment and she was afraid she'd lost the battle. But then he looked at the doctor and said "She's cool." They let her in.

Sam was out cold when they got to his room and he would remain so for a couple of hours, according to the doctor. Jess took his bedside immediately while Dean retreated to the table, on the corner. He took out a leather covered notebook and started scribbling on it. Didn't utter a word to her. She didn't mind. All she cared about was Sam.

Sam would be okay. Just had to work through the fever, the doctor said.

After a few hours, it spiked again, Nurse said it was normal. He started mumbling his brother's name again and that took Dean out of his notebook. Jess stroke Sam's hand but he snapped it out of her reach when he opened bleary eyes, as if he didn't recognize her. "Sam, it's me, it's Jess".

"Where's Dean?"

"Here, Sammy", Dean had crossed the room and was now on the other side of the bed. "You're having a nightmare, Sam. Just the fever, it's okay", he reached for his brother's shoulder and Sam grabbed his arm, tight, and pulled him in. "Hey, it's okay". Sam tugged again, hard, and Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, you're not five anymore". Sam tugged once more. "Okay, okay, I got you".

He kicked off his boots as Sam made room and settled against his brother. Dean was almost sitting and Sam let his head drop against the arm he was holding in a death grip. Dean sighed. "This is socially awkward", but didn't move. Not for the next four hours.

He stayed there until Sam's fever wore out and the doctor said he should wake any minute. Then he untangled himself from his grip and started at the door.

"Where you going?", Jess asked.

"Look, sweetheart…."

"Jessica."

He laughed. "Jessica… it's cool, okay? He's going to be alright"

"So you're leaving?"

"Yeah", and he turned away.

Jess blocked him. "Why?" 

He sighed. "Because Sam wouldn't want me here, okay?"

"I seem to remember him calling out for you mere hours ago." 

"Yean, well, that's what fever will do to you…", he shrugged and what the hell, really?

He seemed to read her confusion. "Look, sug… Jessica. Jessica. It's complicated, ok? Just let it go. Sammy will be okay and he won't even remember any of this. He never does when he gets sick like that. So, just let it go…"

"What am I supposed to tell him?"

"Nothing?", he tried. "Just, please, don't tell him I was here. He's mad at me, you know? This was just a fever fluke. Just don't tell him about it… please?", he asked. Jess just looked at him. "Please?" his shoulders dropped and that look… that hurt, defeated look… she just nodded.

He disappeared after that and she never heard from him again.

She kept her promise. And Sam really didn't remember. The next day he said he had this weird dream "because of the fever" and asked her: "When I was out… did you call me Sammy?"

She swallowed a lump in her throat.

"Yeah, yeah. I did."


	25. Better off

Pre-series and S6.

**Better off**

It's night out and Dean watches his brother through the window, from the street, hidden in shadows. Sam's having dinner and he smiles as Jessica gets him a plate. Dean shouldn't have come to Palo Alto, but he can't help it.

It's night out and Sam watches his brother through the window, from the street, hidden in shadows. Dean's having dinner and he smiles as Lisa gets him a plate. Sam shouldn't have come to Cicero, but he can't help it.

Sam's out in a bar, sitting with Brady, having a few beers. Dean is on the far corner, out of his brother's sight. Brady says something and Sam laughs and it hurts.

Dean's out in a bar, sitting with Syd, having a few beers. Sam is on the far corner, out of his brother's sight. Syd says something and Dean laughs and it hurts.

Sam's going out in Zack's car. Dean is tailing them, trying to follow without being noticed. Sam's sitting in the passenger seat. Dean remembers when Sam used to seat in his car's passenger seat.

Dean's going out with Ben. Sam is tailing them, trying to follow without being noticed. Dean's sitting on the passenger seat, teaching Ben how to drive. Sam remembers Dean teaching him how to drive.

Sam has a routine. He wakes up early everyday, goes out for jog, comes back, has breakfast with Jessica, goes to school, has lunch on the cafeteria, stays in school, sometimes he goes out for beers with Brady, then he comes home, has dinner with Jessica and goes to bed.

Dean has a routine. He wakes up early everyday, has breakfast with Lisa and Ben, takes Ben to school, goes to work, has lunch on the mess, works some more, sometimes he goes out for beers with Syd, then he comes home, has dinner with Lisa and Ben and goes to bed.

Sam's alone in the house and Dean goes to his doorstep. He takes a breath. He lifts his fist. He doesn't knock. He turns away and he thinks his brother is better off without him.

Dean's alone in the house and Sam goes to his doorstep. He takes a breath. He lifts his fist. He doesn't knock. He turns away and he thinks his brother is better off without him.


	26. Christian reminds him of Dean

**A/N: **I feel like I've been way too Dean-focused lately, so I promise to bring my dear Sammy to the center in future updates. I love me some Sammy. And, no promises, but I'll try something lighter, because this paaaaain is killing me almost as much as the fact that I wont be able to watch next ep until Sunday. You don't know it, but I'm pouting right now.

Anyhoo:

S6.

**Christian reminds him of Dean**

Christian reminds him of Dean, somewhat. Not Dean properly, but what Dean could have been if Sam hadn't… ruined his life mostly.

Sam remembers young Dean. Young, focused, driven Dean. He remembers Black Water Ridge. "You wanna know what else helps? Killing as many evil sonsofbitches as I possibly can".

Sometimes he wishes Dean had never come for him at Stanford. For different reasons now. Before, when Sam was younger and more… well, stupid…, part of him wished Dean had never come for him (just wished, never resented), because Jess died. Now, Sam's older and smarter and he knows Jess would have died anyway. If not that night, some other. He could never stop it. Demons were never going to leave him alone. Jess died the moment Sam had feelings for her.

Now, he wishes Dean had never come for him at Stanford… for Dean. For what happened to his brother. All the pain, all the sorrow, all the loss, Hell. It was all Sam's fault. Ok, so he knows Jess would have died anyway and probably Dad too. And Heaven and Hell wouldn't give up on their vessels, so of course he could never avoid running in to Dean completely. They were pawns somehow meant to face each other. And if they hadn't spent the previous five years in close quarters, maybe they wouldn't be able to beat it. Sam knows full well what snapped him awake to take control from Lucifer. The memory and love of his brother is what saved the world.

Not that he cared about the world, really, at _that_ particular moment. All he cared about was not killing Dean. The world was just a bonus he noticed two days after his resurection, after he'd checked to see if Dean was alright. Like an afterthought. 'Oh, yeah, world didn't end'.

He knows all of this, but he still wishes, sometimes. If Dean hadn't come to Stanford, he would be spared of the most of the hurt. Dean used to be focused, driven, secure, confident. Then he turned… well, not weak. Just broken.

Sam knows just what broken his brother and it wasn't Hell. It was Sam. Sam fighting dad for twenty years, Sam leaving for Stanford, Sam talking about coming back to school while they were searching for dad, Sam nagging after dad died, Sam disappearing after Dean told him about dad's last order without a moment of consideration for his brother's feelings, Sam making Dean promise to kill him, Sam dying,

Sam dying.

Sam dying was a turning point, Dean was never the same after that, a whole year before Hell. And whose fault was that? Who decided to have mercy and turn his back at his oponent? Sam let his guard down, died and ended up killing his brother in the process.

But Sam didn't stop at that. Sam got Dean back and lied, cheated and in the end almost killed his brother with his bare hands. There was no Lucifer controlling his punches then. Sam chose a demon over his own brother and it was worst than if he died again. If he was true to his heart, starting the Apocalipse was a minor guilt after that.

Sam broke Dean.

And that's why he won't listen to Samuel. He won't get Dean back. Not ever. No matter how much it hurts and how much he misses his brother.

Sam is done breaking Dean.

Christian keeps cleaning his weapons, taking his time with his largest shotgun. Sam smiles. "Hey, if you want me to leave you two alone…"

His cousin's only reaction is an arched eyebrown. "What?"

Sam laughs, lightly. "It's a joke…"

Christian just stares.

"Never mind, whatever, forget it".

On the other hand… maybe Dean being like Christian was not really all that great either.


	27. Redemption

SPOILERS for 6x02.

SPNSPNSPN

**Redemption**

His life was about giving things up and losing things. He lost his mom. It's his very first memory. He had to give up his home and his toys and his friends. He lived his life worrying about either his father or his brother or both dying. He lived his life worrying about either his father or his brother or both leaving. And they both did. Die and leave.

He can face danger. He has. He can face death. He has. Literally, on that one, in both senses - death and Death himself. He died. He has no fear of danger or hurt of pain.

But he can't bare being abandoned. Not anymore. He never got used to it. Not ever, not even after so many times it happened. Not when his mom died and to his young mind it felt as if she'd left him. Not when Sammy ran away to Flagstaff, than to Stanford, than after dad's death, than all the times after Dean's death. Not when his dad left him. Not when his dad died.

He can't bare being abandoned anymore. It's too much.

So, when Lisa starts her speech, his heart jumps to his throat in a way sitting across the table from Death never did. He knows where this is going. He doesn't have really that much experience being dumped by girls (Cassie broke up with him, but she was angry and loud and throwing things), but he knows where this is going.

He misses most of what she's saying. "… I need you to go…" And, no. Really, no. He can't do blurts out "I can't just lose you and Ben". Because he can't.

She says that's not what she's saying, but she is saying "hit the road".

And then…

"If there's some rule that says this all has to be either or… how bout we break it?"

And then… she's… He's not being abandoned. Not dumped. He's not losing the one girl that he ever managed to be honest with. He's not losing Ben.

What Lisa is offering is… he has no words. He can have her and the kid and Sam and the hunting and the Impala and not giving up anything and not losing and can he, really? Really? Is that allowed?

She gives him the single most beautiful smile he ever saw and if he hadn't already, he'd fall all over again for her.

This.

What Lisa is offering is… redemption.

SPNSPNSPN

**A/N: **Yes, I know I promised more Sam. But I did promise more lightness and less pain, so that promise I delivered.

Sorry, I had to have a little Lisa tribute here. Seriously, this girl just looked at Dean Winchester and said he acts like what he is is a bad thing and it isn't. Isn't that what all of us wanted to say to that boy? Lisa, you rock. Dean needed that. God, I am so grateful that we are seeing a strong, independent, smart female character on this show, I really can almost excuse the existence of Ruby 2.0.


	28. In his shoes

S6x02 SPOILERS.

SPNSPNSPSN

**In his shoes**

The drive to Samuel is long and after a few hours they fall to silence and somehow it's companiable silence. Maybe two trips to Hell between them put petty things like why-one-came-back-from-the-dead seem unimportant. Maybe they've finally been through so much they could allow themselves a little break from family angst at every reunion. Maybe it was all in his head. But Sam wasn't going to look this particular horse at the mouth.

It's companiable silence with his brother and it's as close to home as he has felt in the past year. So, yeah, Sam is the one driving and they are not in the Impala and there's baby on the backseat. It still feels like old times everywhere it counts. Things _are_ better with Dean around.

It makes his mind wander through memories. Happy memories only. Sam's all about selective memory now. And if he ever found himself Heaven-bound for some reason ever again, Sam's pretty sure his place is going to be real different. He values different things now.

He remembers the prank wars in Texas, gluing Dean's hand to a beer bottle. Singing a bad tune together. Gifts on what they thought was Dean's last Christmas. Christmas at Bobby's. Getting drunk when he was not even 12 in Bobby's yard and noticing how his father and Bobby's yelling sounded more amused than really angry. A birthday cake, one of the few they ever had, he's not sure if it's his or his brother's, they always blew the candles together. Dean's first birthday gift to Sam, from his first paycheck from his first job: a book,_The Hardy Boys_, that is still at his closet at Bobby's. An older memory, he's small, because Dean's small in his mind and his hair is as blue as the paint in Sam's chubby fingers.

He blurts out his question before he even knows what he's thinking and that hasn't happened in a awhile. He smiles as he feels like Dean's little brother again.

"Can you imagine hunting with one of this in the backseat?", he nods at the baby behind him and Dean's head snaps to him like a whip. "Dude, you are _not_ adopting the shape shifting baby."

Sam looks confused at his brother because no, that is so not where his mind was going. "Dude, no, come on!". He almost expects Dean to sigh a little but he just arches an eyebrown instead, silently asking his what-is-it-then?

"I mean… just… dad"

Dean stares at him, then back at the road before letting the understanding "huh?" that is the mark of dumbstruck Winchesters everywhere.

"I mean… when dad was my age? He had one of those. And a five year-old. And he was _hunting_."

Dean's staring straight ahead, brow furrowed in hard thought. They stay silent for a few moments and Sam settles back against the seat, looking ahead. When he speaks again he's not sure he's talking to his brother or himself.

"Man, I've been freaking out over this thing for the past 48 hours and that was long before I found out it was a monster… how could he do it?". When Dean answers he's not sure if his brother is talking to him or reasoning with himself. "He did leave us with friends and sitters and daycares at lot at the beginning…"

"Yeah, Dean, but he was still, you know… with us. Like… a parent", Sam's not really all that used to being the one defending John Winchester. "Somewhat. And I know he was our father, so he must have had a little more…", Sam tries to find a better word and just goes with "training… at this than we have. But seriously? Diapers? Feeding every freaking five minutes? Diapers? And demon hunting, ghost chasing? Geez… "

Dean doesn't answer for awhile and they fall back to their silence. It's another few miles before he speaks again, almost whispering.

"Ben asked me to train him."

It's Sam's turn to "huh?".

"Seriously. Dude, I tell you, forget the Apocalypse, Lucifer, Death, Alastair… man, that was the single most terrifying moment of my _life_. I almost peed myself". Sam snorts and Dean just does his I-mean-it eyebrow flip thing.

"What did you do?"

"Told him he wasn't going to ever shoot a gun ever". Sam nods, approvingly. "Then I yelled at him". Dean glances guiltly at his brother and Sam has to back him up. "Yeah, well, you had to get the point across."

Dean nods back. "Still, dude…later? In bed, I just caught myself wondering, you know? Kid knows the truth. He knows there are things out there. And I put a freaking supernatural welcome neon sign at his back. I was thinking… maybe I _should_ train him. A little. Not as a hunter, just to defend himself…"

"… but that's how dad started it", Sam finishes for him.

"That's how dad started it. So I quit the thought. But you know what?", Dean questions him but Sam knows he doesn't need to answer. "I kind got why he did it. Like, really got. For the first time. I mean… I'd do anything to keep Ben safe. Maybe that's where dad was coming from too, you know? Maybe it wasn't about training soldiers in the beginning…"

"Yeah, I know".

Baby gurgles something back and Dean reaches out to him soothingly. Sam can't help but wonder how many times his dad did the same thing to him. How many diapers he changed on the Impala. All the little displays of love and concern and caring Sam never got to appreciate, because he never really understood his father until he was in his father's shoes.

"I miss him."

It's almost a whisper and after a heartbeat or two he's not sure Dean even heard him. But then:

"I miss him too."


	29. Dean can do this

**AN:** Yes, I'm sure every fic writer on the planet is writing this scene. But I just _had to_.

6x04 Spoilers. Don't read it till you've seen it. Seriously.

_Edit: Fixed Sam's car name. Thanks, CeCe Away!_

**Dean can do this**

He faced monsters. He just killed a Lamia, for fuckssake, and he still doesn't really know what the fuck a Lamia _is_. Some kind of Greek-monster-whatever. He killed it. He saved Sam's ass, a first since his return to hunting. By the way, ha!, little brother, ha!. Yeah, you're fine hunting alone. Super. Totally would not get maimed by knight of the zodiac there.

Anyway, he faced monsters. He killed monsters. He shot werewolves, beheaded vampires, gutted demons, killed freaking angels.

He is Dean Friggin' Winchester, vessel of Heaven's most fierce Archangel. Who, by the way, said no to Heaven's most fierce Archangel. Nope, Mikey, sorry, no can do.

He faced on Heaven's most fierce Archangel and the literally goddamned Devil himself, with pretty much nothing more than the shirt on his back. No weapons, no plan, just his sheer badassery.

He is Dean Winchester. Baddass. Fearless. *Fearless*. Okay?

He can fucking do this.

He is not afraid. He can do this.

It's just a freaking airplane. What the fuck is he, five? A girl? A five-year-old girl?

He says an annoyed 'no' to Sam's offer to take this on his own. Yeah, so what if Sam has been hunting alone for the past year, if he is Hunter Almighty now, if he most certainly can take care of a simple salt and burn on his own. Oh, wait minute, didn't Mr I-Can-Do-This-On-My-Own just had his ass handed to him by a monster with the easiest way of killing they ever saw ever? Ok-ay. Dean is coming.

Dean is not afraid.

Dean-is-not-afraid.

He gets his new credit card and just uses up the limit on it. Two tickets, executive class. If he's going on an airplane for nine freaking hours, he's not going to save his fraudulent money. He's going to have a sit that reclines, because he's thirty-fucking-two and too old for this shit. And if he has to board a plane naked, he's sure as hell getting some actual metal silverware on his dinner. He justifies it to Sam with some bullshit on how the airplane folks probably annoy rich executive class people less so they can worry less about their fake passports and, oh yeah, the fact that they are presumed-dead-fugitives traveling abroad. Sam doesn't buy it for a second, but the guy that bought a frigging Dodge Charger after 20-plus years of bitching about how the Impala drew "too much attention, Deeeeaaaan" knows when to keep his frigging mouth shut.

He can do this.

Oh, fucking hell, they're on the air for half a fucking hour and another one of these bumps? Dean is going to the pilot and driving the damned thing himself. Once he can move.

He feels something heavy bouncing across his chest and starts. Sam's iPod. Little bitch. He's in a frigging airplane, he has a steady girlfriend, a surrogate kid, he's-in-a-frigging-airplane, but he is NOT listening to a frigging iPod. A man gotta know when to draw the line. Sam seems to read his mind, for once. He has the nerve to roll his eyes before speaking.

"Dude, Mettalica."

And, oh.

Oh.

Okay. Mettalica.

"What…", he starts, but Sam cuts him.

"Full discography."

Huh. Full discography. More than enough for the next eight and a half hours.

Ok.

Dean can do this.

But he better be torching Crowley when he gets there.


	30. Defined

Spoilers for everything aired.

SPNSPNSPN

**Being defined**

His life's passage is measured by his brother's.

There was the time before his brother was born. Dean doesn't remember much of it. Just bits and pieces, scenes when he can only tell his age by the absence of his brother. "I must have been less than 4." PB&Js with his mom. Playing ball with his dad. Waiting on the steps for the Impala to turn on the corner. His mom's smiles. 'Hey, Jude'. Tomato rice soup. "My little angel".

There was the time when mom was pregnant. He vaguely recalls his parents telling him he'd have a brother or a sister and him begging, begging "please, please, please let it be a brother". He remembers his mother's swollen belly. He remembers snuggling against it and singing 'Hey, Jude' himself.

Then, his brother was born. He remembers baby Sammy, with the chubby hands and easy giggles. He remembers his own disappointment that Sammy didn't really do much, really.

Then, baby Sammy, doing much. Really. Crying all the time, missing his mommy as bad as Dean himself. He remembers wanting to help and being unable to. Grown ups didn't let him carry Sammy or change his diapers, even though it really didn't seem that hard and he was five already, not a little kid anymore. He remembers sneaking in Sammy's crib and holding him. He remembers falling asleep in awkward positions, but not moving because Sammy stopped crying.

Then, life on the road. He remembers hunts and spells and strategies and guns. He remembers his training and that he has to take care of Sammy. All the rest is… Sammy. He can tell his age in all of his memories by adding four years to Sam's. He remembers Sam was 3 when dad took Dean shooting for the first time, so he must have been 7. He remembers Sam was 5 when the Shrtiga attacked, so he must have been 9. He remembers that he had to rush with the girl he had sex for the first time, because he had to take Sam to soccer practice and Sam was 10 when he played soccer, so Dean must have been 14. He remembers Sam was 13 when dad let Dean go on his first solo hunt, so he must have been 17. He remembers Sam was also 13 when he started high school and realized Dean had dropped out, so, 17, again. He remembers it was Sam's 14th birthday when Dean looked in his father's eyes and lied that yeah, he was totally graduating the following month, so he was 18. He remembers Sam was 19 when he left for Stanford so he knows that chapter of his life closed when he was 23.

Then, another whole period defined by the absence of his brother. Sam was in college and Dean was in misery. He and his dad tried to stay close, the only family each other had. Even in solo hunts, they made sure to contact each other, make check-ins, give each other's name as the emergency contact. But the both knew their team was missing a member and the phantom pain of Sam's absence managed to dull even the good times they had.

Sam was 22 when Jessica died, so Dean must have been 26 when he got his brother back. Happiest year of his life. So, yeah, dad was missing, but dad was also alive. So, yeah, Sammy's girl died, but Sam was also there. So, yeah, Sam got his weirdo visions, but they were hunting together. And even thought he didn't knew it back then and would totally laugh at anyone who said so, his life was so much simpler.

Sam was 23 when their father died, so Dean must have been 27.

He remembers Sam was 24 when he died because Dean remembers holding his lifeless body and screaming inside himself that it was wrong, it was unfair that Sam didn't live to see a quarter century. Dean must have been 28.

He didn't really care about birthdays anymore, but he remembers his 29th because Sam got drunk and hugged him and sobbed in his shoulder that it was wrong, it was unfair that Dean wouldn't live to be 30.

His body was still 29 when he climbed out of hell, but he had the memory of a 69 year-old. He felt older than that. He felt broken and wrong and misplaced and that, that was The Bad Time. He was back from Hell shattered only to realize he was not the worse Winchester off. Sam was worse, so much worse and it was Dean's fault because he didn't keep the promise to always be there to watch out for his little brother. He stops counting ages and birthdays and then the Apocalypse comes but he remembers that night only as the one his brother tried to kill him. The night his brother chose a demon over him. His end-of-the-world happened hours before Lucifer was freed from the cage.

He thinks nothing is ever going to be the same and that this time is going to be labeled in his history as the one he lost faith in the only family he had left. But then he went to the future and saw what his lack of faith did to his brother and that's a memory he want never to have to label.

Sam jumps in the hole and, strike three, Dean's out, another time defined by a Sam-less existence. Lisa is amazing and caring and perfect and he loves her. Ben is the greatest kid ever, after 12-year-old Sam. And that's the pain that won't stop ever, because he teaches Ben how to drive and Ben smiles and Dean sees only Sam. Ben laughs out loud at some stupid joke of his and Dean sees Sam. He takes Ben to soccer practice and he yells his brother's name when the kid scores.

Then he opens his eyes and his brother is there. Then he blinks and they are back on the road. Then he knows it should be another chapter, but it feels wrong. It feels as if he's stuck in the same page, the Sam-less page, and he should have known better.

He closes his eyes and sees Sam smirk and he realizes he's still being defined by the absence of his brother.

Sam is not back yet.


	31. Outliving

S6 SPOILERS

SPNSPNSPN

**Outliving**

Sam has no idea how Samuel found out. He didn't tell any of the Campbell's. And, frankly, he didn't really remember it himself. He stopped caring about the thing long before his return from Hell.

"Happy birthday, Sam".

Right, birthday. His grandfather is offering him a beer. Right, beer. He puts down the shotgun he was cleaning and takes it.

"So… 28." 

28. Huh.

That's why he stopped caring about birthdays long before he stopped feeling things. 28. Dean was 28 when Sam died on his 24th birthday. Dean was 29 when he died on Sam's 25th. The thing kind of loses its appeal when instead of party hats you get your brother shredded to pieces by invisible dogs.

The memory doesn't hurt like it used to. Not that anything hurts anymore, not for some time. But even if Sam has no feelings, he still has memories. He's not celebrating anything on the anniversary of his brother's death. And of his own death. And, some sort of anniversary of his mom's death too.

His mom.

His mom died when she was 28.

Huh.

His mom died when she was his age.

"We should go to a bar, celebrate."

Right, grandfather. Cue, smile. "Yeah, well, maybe some other time". Cue, drink.

Samuel gives his "I-don't-buy-this-act-for-a-second" long look, but eventually, as always, he just shrugs and leaves.

He is 28. His mother was born in December. Dead by November. If Sam somehow makes it to April without buying it - for real - he is going to have more time alive than his mother ever had. Sooner, actually. Sam does have six extra months of Trickster-time under his belt.

That's… odd.

He looks at his beer than raises a drink by himself. "For you, mom."

…..

Dean doesn't really realize it for years. His 28th birthday was spent getting as drunk as he could possibly get for him to get Sam to take care of him for awhile and just wipe the whole "please, shoot me, Dean" look from his eyes by making him feel useful and needed .

His 29th was spent obsessing about having four more months to live.

His 30th… well, the world was freaking ending, he didn't really realize he was 30 until Sam yelled it at him when his body was 65. He missed 31st too.

It's only when he turns 32 that he realizes it. He doesn't tell Lisa or Ben that it's his birthday. He doesn't feel like celebrating when all he can think about is that Sam is not there and that his little brother will never be 32. Or 31. Or 30, 29, 28.

He's sitting in a stool in a bar on the other side of town where Lisa won't find him and he won't run into Syd or any of the guys from work. Funny how now he has this whole number of people he can just run into.

He asks for another drink.

He never wanted to outlive Sam. He never wanted to be that last Winchester standing.

He's drinking to feel less, but now he feels too much and it's no longer just about Sam. It's Sam, and it's Sammy-the-little-boy he's been missing for years. It's Sam and it's dad and it's mom and he just misses them so much it's like hellhounds are tearing through his heart again.

How can he be 32 when his brother was dead at 27?

How can he be 32 when his mother was dead at… at…28?

He's lived four years longer than Mary Winchester now.

God…how is that fair? How does he get to live longer than his mom? His mom was… perfect. And he's just wrong and broken and sad. How is it fair that he gets to live longer than her?

His eyes are burning so he takes another drink. And another. And another. For Sam. For Sammy. For his dad.

Another one. "For you, mom".


	32. January 24th

Yeah, I know, two in a row. If you got to this chapter now, please know the previous one is new too.

And it's my brother's birthday this week, so I guess this is why I have the theme stuck in my head. :P

Anyway: Pre-series.

SPNSPN

**January 24th**

Sam wishes he never told Jess. But it was April and they had quite literally just met and he had no reason to think he'd be around her in January. And she was pretty and he desperately wanted to have something to contribute to what was turning out to be a very one sided conversation.

She was joking about how she never got really good birthday presents. Her birthday was just after Christmas and her parents just gave her a nice present for that and a simpler one for her birthday. "When is your birthday?", he asked, hoping she wouldn't realize it was his 12th question in a row without giving a single ounce of information himself.

She answered and he just felt compelled to add. "Oh, my brother's birthday is on the 24th". She's gleeful with the announcement and Sam just wants to make her smile forever. "Oh, perhaps we can throw a party together!", she squeals and he's nodding and going "oh, yeah, absolutely, he would love that" and drinking from his beer and not thinking about how Dean never got really good birthday presents regardless of the date's proximity to Christmas.

He never expected to be with her, living with her, next time January 24th came.

He never expected her to remember what he said nine months prior.

He gets her a great present for the first birthday they spend as a couple. A real nice necklace. A silver one - and he tells himself it's just because it's pretty and nothing else. It takes half his savings but it's worth it.

After dinner, she asks how his brother is doing and he frowns and she asks "isn't his birthday today too?" and he frowns some more until it clicks and he remembers their first date. He takes a page from that day, smiles, looks her in the eye and lies. "Yeah, yeah. He's good." 

"You talked to him?"

_No, not in the past year and a half._

"Yeah. He's back in Kansas, going out with some friends".

_He could be dead and I__'d have no idea._

Jess smiles and holds his hand tighter.

Next year, though, she has had a full 12-month experience of living under his roof and realizing Sam not only doesn't talk about his family, he doesn't talk _to _them.

"Called your brother?"

_Yeah. Found out his phone was disconnected._

"No."

"Sam…"

"Jess…"

"It's his birthday", she says. "It's your birthday", he counters. "Can we please not fight?" and he wins.

He wishes he never told her.

Next time January 24th comes, he's dragging his brother to a bar and smiling and saying "it's your birthday, we're celebrating" and asking the bartender for a full bottle.

But his brother knows when he's pretending. 

Dean takes the bottle from Sam's hands.

"I know what today is."

Sam's smiles fades. He shuts his eyes tight. Then he feels a glass being shoved in his hand.

"It's okay, Sam."

They drink in silence for the rest of the night. 


	33. Friendly neighbors

**Friendly neighbors**

"Mooooooooooooooooooom!"

Sam cringes at the sound and hears his brother's tossing and turning in his own bed.

"Sam."

He opens an eye, definitely not sleeping, not for the past hour, and looks at his brother's bed. Dean's hand is outstretched, but his eyes are closed and his face is still buried in the pillow.

"Gimme the Colt."

Sam eyes the weapons bag next to his bed. Looks back at his brother.

"Wha…?"

"Give-me. The-Colt."

Dean's eyes are still closed.

"Why?"

"Gonna shoot the kid. He's clearly possessed."

Sam sinks back in to his pillow. He glances at the clock on his nightstand.

8h13.

They got back from the cemetery sometime around 5 and slept for good two hours before the kids in the room next door woke the entire motel.

"Shut up, Dean".

Dean puts the pillow over his head. He manages to stay put for a full 10 seconds.

"Mooooooooooooooooooom, Tommy has my shirt! Tell him to give it back! Give it back! Mooooooooooooom!"

Dean jumps and Sam has to double check he's isn't going for the Colt.

His brother puts on his pants, grabs a jacket.

"Fuck this, I'm getting coffee".

Sam covers his own head with the pillow.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad…"

He eyes the Colt himself.

When Dean comes back, kids are outside playing and managing to be even louder than when they were in the room. Sam is considering turning the Colt on himself.

"There are three of them."

For a second, Sam thinks his brother is talking strategy and is about to point out their formation.

"What?"

"Three, Sammy. Three. How come they sound like there are 30 of them?"

Sam chuckles. "We need to get out of here."

"I tried. I looked for other motels nearby. They are all full, because of the 4th of July. Apparently 'people like to get close to the ocean, take out the boats for the party'," Dean makes a pretty accurate imitation of the lady in the front desk.

"Who lets kids stay in motels, anyway?", Dean asks and Sam is just… really?

"Uuuh…. dad?"

Dean looks at him and Sam can see the wheels turning in his brother's head.

"Well, dad was… hunting. We were hunting. And… training. These kids are just… what the _fuck_ are they doing?", he opens the window to look out.

Sam glances from his bed. "I think…. dodge ball?"

"Doesn't dodge ball have like teams and stuff? There are three of them!"

Sam has no idea. He has never played dodge ball in his life. He never went to a P.E. class ever. His dad gave him enough physical exercise as it was and he never stuck around in a school long enough for the teachers to notice his absence.

"I have no…"

He wanted to finish his sentence, really, but then a very big, very red ball comes flying through the window and knocks him straight on the face. Hard. How old were those kids, anyway?

Sam is seeing starts. God, that ball was heavy. Dean is doubled over with laughter.

A knock on the door. When Dean goes to answer, a little boy, no more than six is waiting.

"Mister… I think our ball got inside your room."

Of course the older kids would send their little brother to the rescue. The kid blinks puppy dog eyes at Dean and Sam just knows his brother will cave.

"Can we have it back, pleeeeeeeeeease?"

Big brother Dean takes over. "Sure thing, buddy."

When the kid is off, Sam rolls his eyes.

"I think he broke my nose."

He didn't. Sam is just annoyed and missing sleep and you know… annoyed. Frigging kids are screaming all over again.

"Oh, come one, man, don't be a baby. It was funny…"

He eyes his brother. "Really? All it takes is for a frigging six year-old to blink at you and you forgive him for waking us up with his screeching at 7 A.M.?"

Dean shrugs. "Kid's cute."

He stands up, heads to the bathroom and freezes with the sound of a broken window.

A broken window, right by their door.

Dean swallows slowly. Turns around. Sam knows this stance. This is not big brother Dean. This is hunter Dean.

He opens the door and sure enough, there's the Impala. Missing a window.

Sam reaches for the Colt and empties the bullets. Just in case.

Dean cranes his neck at him.

Sam shrugs. "You're right. Kid's cute."


	34. Whimpering

S4

**Whimpering**

It's the whimpering that kills him.

Sam has seen his brother in every state of hurt, physical and psychological, for the course of their lives.

Dean never whimpered before.

Dean never whimpered before Hell.

Sam wants revenge. He wants Lilith's head, bloody. She killed his brother. She killed the only family he had left. The only family he ever had, really.

And it didn't stop when he got his brother back.

Because now, Dean whimpers. Every night. Every time he closes his eyes and can't fight sleep any longer. Dean whimpers and tosses and turns and sometimes, there are tears. Then he wakes up and the first thing he does is take a swing off his bottle. Dean always has a bottle with him now. His brother was never a drinker. His brother was never a whimperer.

His brother was strong, larger than life, unstoppable, unshakable.

He's whimpering.

Sam should him wake him. Sam wakes him every night. Every time. And every time Dean wakes up, he takes a swing and shrugs if off. It hurts almost as bad as the whimpering.

So he doesn't.

He brushes a hand through Dean's hair. He uses the other one to hold on to Dean's arm. And he cries.

He cries silent tears because all he wanted was his brother back and now he got it and it's not the same. It'll never be the same. He can't fix Dean. He can't help. For all his training and habilities, he can't help his brother.

He can only get revenge.

Dean whimpers something that sounds like 'Sammy' and Sam wipes the tears off his face. He takes Dean by the shoulder.

"Dean, wake up."

Dean's up with a start and Sam moves back to his own bed without saying a word.

Dean takes a sip from his bottle, then turns around.

"You okay, Sammy?"

No, he's not.

"Yeah. I'm super."


	35. Bunny ears

Weechesters, cause I love them.

**SPNSPN**

**Bunny ears**

Dean comes out of the school building with five other kids. One of them - a girl, of course; boy is a Winchester, after all - is telling him something. John is about to whistle to get his attention, he's supposed to be gone already and he needs to give his sons some extra cash before he leaves, but the girl is touching Dean's arm and Dean's smirking and John just stops himself and hides behind a tree. He has to see this one play it itself out.

Girl ends up interrupted anyway.

"Deeeeeaaaan!"

Dean's head turns to the sound of his little brother before the first scream even ends. By the second, he's walking away, leaving the girl literally hanging mid-sentence.

"Dean! Dean! Dean!"

John's instincts take over for just a second when he hears his youngest, but he knows this scream. This is an excited-I-gotta-show-you-this-now-Dean scream. No danger whatsoever, except maybe to his ear drums.

He turns around the tree just a second before Sammy, in all his 6 year-old glory, collapses against his older brother legs, while clutching something precious in his tiny hands.

"Easy, there, tiger", Dean says while laughing because Sammy's nose is painted red, he has whiskers on his face and a pair of bunny ears on top of his head.

"Dean, Dean, I'm a bunny!"

"Yeah, man, I could see it by how fast you were running there", Dean's crouched down now to his brother's eye level.

"It's because its Easter! We got chocolate, look!", Sam shows his hands overflowing with candy. "You can have half of mine!", he drops his hand's contents in his brother's. Dean puts most of it in his pockets, but, being Dean, opens one wrapper and shoves it in his mouth.

"Aaaaand…", Sam gets his backpack and searches through it. "…. Mrs. Edmonton said I could get one for you too!"

Sam finally finds what sounds like the most amazing present ever and hands it to his brother.

It's another pair of bunny ears.

He's jumping from one foot to the other while his brother contemplates his gift with a smile in his face.

"This is awesome, dude. Thank you. You were right, Mrs. Edmonton is a cool chick".

And then, Dean Winchester, the oldest 11 year-old on the planet, on the front steps of his school, in front of half his classmates, puts a pair of bunny ears on his head.

"How do I look?"

Sammy is giggling and clapping his hands excitedly.

"You look funny!"

"I'm a funny bunny?"

Sam's laughter is full and bubbly and John just loves how easily Dean can make his brother laugh like that.

"You're a funny bunny!"

Dean stands up as a young woman approaches the pair, but he keeps the ears.

"Sam… what did we talk about running across the school? You're supposed to wait in class for your brother", she says, smiling. She's clearly amused with the pair of bunny-ears-wearing-wonders in front of her.

Sam doesn't seem really bothered by the teacher scolding him, though. He's still looking and laughing at his brother's ears. Dean nudges him in the shoulder.

"She's right, Sammy"

"Oh… I'm sorry, Mrs. Edmonton", he says, straightening his shoulders, looking seriously at her, like Dean taught him "men apologize when they're wrong".

Dean puts on his most winning smile, the one that's been scoring him free pie with waitresses across the country since he was Sammy's age. "Sam said you let him get extra ears for me, ma'am. Thank you."

John knows what's coming and, as expected, Mrs. Edmonton visibly melts and looks at his eldest like he is the most precious thing alive. If she only knew how much havoc this polite bunny eared kid can cause with a shotgun...

"You're welcome, Dean. You boys be good now. See you tomorrow, Sam."

Dean waves her good-bye, but Sam never pays much attention to anyone when he's around his brother.

"Ready to go home?", Dean crouches back down to get Sammy's stuff that ended up spread out of his backpack in his rush to get the ears out.

"Dean?"

It's the girl he was talking to before. John forgot about her. Apparently Dean did also.

"Lidnsay, hey, hi…"

She looks annoyed, but Dean doesn't seem to notice. He takes Sam's books, his stuffed lion ('bears are for girls, dad') and zips the backpack up, before putting it against his own shoulder, on top of his own pack, and standing up.

"I was talking about tomorrow? Everyone is going at the park, you know… hang out…"

"Tomorrow is movie day", Sam tugs at his brother's knee and whispers loudly. Sam doesn't like sharing Dean.

He gets an "I know, dude" as an answer, before Dean turns to the girl. "Yeah, can't do. I promised him I'd take him to the movies. Sorry, Linds…", he winks, but Winchester charm isn't working anymore. She rolls her eyes, slowly.

"You're spending your Saturday babysitting your brother?".

John is going to smack that girl.

Maybe Sam is going to smack that girl. He lounges forward. "I'm not a baby!"

Dean takes Sam by the shirt collar and tugs him back to his side. "Man, I know, I don't know what she's thinking…", he takes a finger and rolls it against his head as if saying 'girl's crazy'. As if she's the one wearing bunny ears in front of the school.

"I don't know what you're thinking, sweetheart", he turns his attention back to her. "But, seriously, whatever _I _decide to do with _my _Saturday, it's got to be a lot better than hanging out with _you_".

Dean says "you" like she's a disease or something nastier and John has to be proud of how cocky and self-assured his son looks telling down a girl like that while wearing bunny ears.

"Come on, Sam, we need to get some paint. I want some mean whiskers like yours…", he takes his brother's hand.

Girl stays there wide-eyed for a full five seconds after Dean and Sam are already turned around, strolling down to the sidewalk with matching bunny ears on their heads.

John thinks this was worth being late.


	36. Words

Pre-series. Sam is 17, Dean is 21.

**Words**

Sam would be caught making out with a witch in her coven before he ever admitted to it, but… he missed Dean. School was nicer when he was around.

At least, then, he had somebody to talk to. He gave up on making friends years ago. No point. Not only he's just leave them, he honestly didn't seem to have anything in common with any of those morons. The popular kids were just plain stupid. The smart kids were just plain awkward. There was just no point.

Also, everyone else seemed to leave him at peace when Dean was around. Whenever they got to a new school Dean usually evoked one of two reactions: either he charmed all the popular kids and they left Sam alone out of sheer adoration of his brother; or he terrified them and they left Sam alone out of sheer terror of his brother.

Either way, he was "Dean Winchester's little brother" and that earned him some peace of mind. With Dean gone, he was "the new kid" and he lacked the will to charm or terrify anyone on his own. He tried to just mingle with the shadows, but it was hard not to stand out when he just outscored every single student in every single school he attended without much of an effort. Bullies didn't like the smart kids and they usually only learned to leave Sam alone after he threw a few punches.

Another thing he gave up years ago: avoiding fights. There was just no point in pretending he didn't know how to defend himself. The sooner he faced the jerks, the sooner they left him alone, the sooner he could blend back in to the shadows. He just had to watch out not to break any of their bones or, you know, kill them accidentally.

After awhile, he began to see it as part of his job. He was Sam Winchester and whenever he left a town, something evil would be dead and a bully would think twice before picking on a mathlete.

Still, he missed his brother in school. Actually, he missed his brother, period.

Dean was going out with Dad on hunts more regularly and after the hundredth fight about how he wanted to at least _try _to finish school without an extra year, they were leaving him alone in the same town for longer stretches of time.

Which… was cool. That's what he always wanted. Not to move around so much. Not to go on every single hunt. That's what he wanted. He just… wished Dean was around more. He didn't have anyone to talk to in school, he didn't have anyone to talk to at home. He was lonely. And it sucked.

So, really, you couldn't blame him that he was actually happy to see his brother injured. It's not like Dean was _seriously _injured. He'd live. He'd even walk… eventually. He just busted some ligaments and had to stay off his feet for a few days. Then, a few months of physical therapy. A few months in the same town, not being able to leave, not being able to hunt. It was perfect.

"Did you get me pie?"

Yes, Sam got him pie. Sam always got him pie, every single day. It was their deal. Sam could drive to school, as long as he brought pie back. And washed the car. And parked away from the rest of those stupid kids. And didn't get a scratch on her. And made coffee every morning. Sam knew it. Sam would do all of those things anyway. Sam didn't even want to drive to school, but he knew it would make Dean happy to think Sam enjoyed driving his car. It was a little brother thing to do and Sam was happy to do it. And to get pie. Every day. As long as Dean was around.

"Don't get up, you moron, I'll take it to you", he scolded when Dean started up from the couch to reach for his crutches. "I'll just get a plate".

Sam got a plate, two beers, gave his brother the pie and a beer, then sat on the floor in front of the couch Dean was laid out on and opened his own can. Dean asked how school was, he answered. Fine, normal, whatever, no, no hot girls, no, no one giving him trouble, yes, Dean, really, fine. They fought for the remote, Sam won, because Sam could walk and because Sam always won. Dean chose music in the car, Sam chose TV at home. Unspoken house rules.

Dean bitched about not being able to walk and went on and on and on about how hot the physical therapist was and how he was seriously going to do something to her that Sam didn't hear because he got pretty adept on tuning out his brother's tone of voice.

He settled on an already started action movie, drank from his beer and let his head fall against the couch. Dean was still talking and talking and talking, his voice feeling every space until Sam felt he could almost breath all the meaningless words. He was lonely for so long and now Dean was back and there were words and no more silence.

It made him question his plans. If he managed to get out and go to college, could he convince Dean to go with him? Unlikely. Dean actually enjoyed hunting. But he could hunt and still have a home base wherever Sam ended up studying, right? Right?

"Sam? You sleeping?"

He wasn't. But he didn't answer. Or open his eyes. He was comfortable and warm and it felt nice and not lonely for the first time in weeks. Probably the beer. He felt his brother ruffle his hair.

"I missed you. Bitch."

He had to restrain a smile. Maybe Dean _would_ go with him.

Yeah. He totally would. Things would be okay.


	37. Day after

**Day after**

He remembers the day after his mother died. There were so many people there.

Dean was only four, but he remembers. He remembers sitting on a couch so big he felt like a baby on it. He remembers wearing a jacket and a tie and that they itched, but he didn't complain. Who would he complain to? Mom was the one that usually cared about his clothes and Dad said she wouldn't be coming back.

He remembers Dad sitting on the other corner of the room, so far away. He had stubble on his face and his eyes were red and swollen and Dean had to look away.

He remembers Sammy being held by a lot of women he didn't know. Women that hugged Dean and cried on his shoulder and told him everything would be alright. Dean remembers wanting to be around Sammy, but whenever he would ask, the women would cry and he would be hugged and he didn't want people crushing him anymore. So he sat on the couch and waited, one eye on his father, one eye on his brother. His mother wasn't going to come back and all this people were apparently never going to leave.

Dean stayed silent and waited for it all to be over.

The day after his father dies, Sam wakes him up in the middle of the night. Their insurance is about to crap out. They need to get the hell away and now.

He silently obeys his brother's commands on the way out of the hospital and its only when he reaches the car that he remembers. He remembers because there's a body on the back seat, covered in white sheets.

Sam stole his father's corpse and they need to get the hell away and now.

Sam drives because Dean can't. He can't look at the rearview mirror, he can't drive, he can't breath.

Sam drives for hours until they reach some abandoned field. His brother walks out by himself. Dean doesn't move and Sam doesn't ask him to.

Dean stays rigid on his seat as Sam takes the body and the salt and prepares the pyre. Dean doesn't help and Sam doesn't ask him to.

When his job is done, Sam walks to the passenger door and opens it. Dean walks out in silence.

Sam lights the fire and they stand side by side.

Sam has stubble on his face and his eyes are red and swollen and he looks so much like dad 23 years before, Dean can't look at him.

He can't look anywhere, because there's nobody there. A lifetime of saving people and killing evil things and John Winchester burns away in an empty field.

Its the day after his father died . There's nobody there.

Dean stays silent and waits for it all to be over.


	38. Stupid

Pre-series

**Socks**

Sam is freezing and it's all Dean's fault.

They were back up. They were not supposed to get hurt. They were supposed to be the last line of defense of their dad, who never, ever, in 18 years of monster hunting had once let anything through him long enough to need a last line of defense. Ever.

But Dean thought he heard something and went charging ahead with no care for his own safety and Sam followed him, because what else does Sam do besides following his stupid brother around? And then his stupid brother tripped on that stupid tree serving as a stupid bridge and fell on the stupid river. And then he had to hit his stupid head. And Sam had to jump in the stupid freezing river in stupid December weather in stupid Colorado to save his stupid ass.

Of course, the stupid ass lived, because Dean may be 4 years older, but Sam's taller and a better swimmer and knows how to not hit his head on the way down a river.

And now, Sam is dying.

"You're not _dying_", Dean reminds him, but, oh god, it feels like he is.

It's unfair. Dean's the one that fell in the stupid river in the first place, why the hell is Sam the one left with the stupid cold? The sunovabitch is not even sneezing.

"You don't eat enough protein. You get weak. Easy to get sick", his brother pats him on the leg from his side of the couch.

Shuddup, Dean. Just shut your stupid mouth and go away. That's what Sam wants to say. What he says, thought, is something like a half a moan and half a grumble and Dean chuckles.

"Come on, big guy, lay down. You'll feel better".

He doesn't want to listen to what Dean says, it'sallhisfaultanyway, but he does lay down because his head is pounding and down sounds _good_. He shoves his feet on his brother's lap and Dean jumps a little.

"Geez, Sammy, your feet are freezing".

Yes, they are. Sam is freezing. It's so frigging cold and this stupid motel has no heater and it's frigging December is stupid Colorado and Dean is so stupid and he just wants to kick his stupid brother and what the hell is his stupid brother _doing_?

Dean is taking off his socks.

"Well, on the up side, I think your fever is gone."

Dean is taking off own his socks and now Dean is putting his socks on Sam's feet.

Like… it's the most normal thing in the world, he doesn't even acknoledges it.

"What?" he asks when he notices Sam staring.

"Do you even have like an _ounce _of care for your own well-being?"

"What?", Dean is confused. Sam wants to kick his ass.

"Really? It's fucking freezing and you are taking off your socks now. It was fucking freezing yesterday and you went charging on that river? Are you, like… _trying_ to freeze to death?"

Dean is silent for half a second.

"Geez, grumpy, just wanted to get you warmer, forget about it…"

Dean tries to snatch his socks off his brother's feet, but Sam kicks him away. He's hit with this profound wave of… _affection _for his stupid brother. He doesn't know what to do with it, so he just grumbles some more.

"I'm not jumping after you next time…"

Dean chuckles again. "Yeah, you are."

"No, I'm not."

Sam is. He totally is. 'Cause he's just… stupid.


	39. Third fire

Pilot and S3.

SPNSPN

**Third fire**

Sam read somewhere that people that lost loved ones often felt the first few days were the hardest, because it takes them a second when they wake up to remember what happened and they get hit by loss all over again.

He envies those people.

He doesn't get a second of not knowing Jessica is dead, because he dreams of her dying all night long. He wakes up with her name on his lips and his eyes burning.

He thought he wouldn't be able to sleeping the day after she died, but he did. Dean drugged him. He thought drugs were supposed to make you not dream, but he dreamt all night long. He woke up crying and panting and Dean's arms were around him. Dean's arms, the ones that dragged him out of the fire.

He resents them.

He wished he died on the fire. Either one of them. First one would be better, then Jessica would be alive.

Dean forces water down his throat, makes him eat, drags him to the shower, drags him back. Dean gives up on trying to shave him and Sam thinks his brother doesn't want him near a razor blade.

His brother is right.

Dean shoves a package on his lap and it's a suit and a tie. Sam looks lost and Dean tells him about the funeral. Yeah, there's a funeral. Normal people get funerals. Sam's probably going to be salted and burned in a field so he doesn't come back as an angry spirit.

He would come back as an angry spirit, he just knows it.

He doesn't want to go to the funeral. He doesn't want to see Jess's parents, their friends, her picture on a frame, her closed coffin. Dean says words he doesn't care to listen. Dean barks to order him to dress and Sam punches his brother. Dean doesn't deflect and Sam knows he could. Dean is stronger and faster and better trained and is not rusty and has been deflecting Sam's punches their entire lives. Dean doesn't deflect because he chooses not to deflect. He takes the blow willingly and all anger washes out of Sam.

He's crying again and Dean's holding him again. Dean. The brother he left, he abandoned. The brother who always had his back. The brother he didn't speak for two years because of a fight that seems so unimportant now it would make him cry if he wasn't already bawling. Dean's all Sam's got.

Dean's all that's left. Dean has always been all that's left.

He picks up the suit and dresses himself. Dean fixes his tie then drives him. Jess's parents live a couple hours away. Sam doesn't ask how Dean knows the address.

When they arrive, Sam's legs are wobbling. Dean walks beside him and somehow he manages to scare off every single person that wants to hug Sam. He makes an exception to Jess's mother, because mothers are Dean's weakness and Jess' mother is blond and beautiful and sobbing.

The service lasts forever and Sam stands there, not thinking, looking ahead. His father would be proud of his stiff attention, if he ever bothered to show up again. Then they start to lay down the coffin and Sam feels weak and he drops down. It's a second, he never hits the floor. Dean's arms are around his back and his elbow and they're pushing Sam back on his feet. Dean's arms stay there, at arm's length until his brother's satisfied Sam's not collapsing again.

He doesn't resent them anymore.

They stay in Palo Alto for a week to work 'the case'. Dean works the case. Sam just stands in his brother's motel room and resents his life. Dean brings food every day, makes Sam eat and Sam feels somewhat five. Dean's up every time Sam has a nightmare and Sam feels even younger. Dean does laundry, Dean cleans the room, Dean makes sure Sam makes it.

Sam makes it.

Sam read somewhere that people that lost loved ones often felt the first few days were the hardest, because it takes them a second when they wake up to remember what happened and they get hit by loss all over again.

He envies those people.

He doesn't get a second of not knowing his brother is dead, because he can't go to sleep.

He can't go to sleep because there's research to do and every second he wastes sleeping is another second for his brother in Hell.

Sam doesn't sleep and Bobby can't make him. Sam eats, because he has to have energy to keep working, but he only eats at the brink of starvation when his brain starts to slow down. Not more than once every couple days. Sam doesn't shower and Sam doesn't shave.

His brother isn't there to make him.

His brother isn't there to make him make it.

Sam collapses on the floor when all his hope is gone and his brother isn't there to keep him from falling.

Sam collapses and Sam falls and he would give his own life, he would damn the world, he would do whatever it took to have his brother's arms pulling him from out of this third fire.


	40. Fucking joint

**Fucking joints**

John Winchester won't be getting any father of the year awards. He won't be getting any father of the month awards. At his very best, he would probably not get any father of the last five minutes awards.

He took his eldest shooting when he was seven. He gave his youngest a gun when he was nine. He taught them how to steal and lie and hustle and how to drive away from the cops. He taught his sons to fight and shoot and kill.

He won't be getting any father of the year awards.

But John Winchester has rules. His rules are law. They make him feel like a parent.

The first and last words out of their mouths are "sir". They wake up at reveille, they eat and they run 10 k and work out before school. Every morning, every day, weekdays and weekends, sun, rain or snow. Hunters have to be ready.

They don't say "fuck". Sam can talk about their "goddammed" life and Dean can call everyone he meets a "son of a bitch", but they don't get to say "fuck". They say "frigging" and "freaking" and sometimes they go all the way to "f" and "u" and then they bite the rest because they remember all too well the day Dean spat a tooth because he said the whole word. John is not even sure why he cares about that one in particular and not any of the others, but the law was laid and has to be obeyed.

They don't do drugs. He fed hard liquor to them both before they were twelve to stitch up wounds he was to incompetent to protect them from. They drink beer since way before either of their fifteen's birthday and John can't make himself care. But they don't do drugs.

John knows he's not getting any father of the year awards. But he feels like a parent.

Then he gets home unexpectedly at 7 AM one day and sneaks inside to see if they are working out properly and sees them spread out in the couch looking like they haven't slept all night.

"Just give me the fucking joint, Dean", Sam mumbles slowly. "Roll your fucking own", Dean answers in the same lazy tone.

7 AM and they are smoking a fucking joint.

John turns around, heads for the bar.

Not getting any awards, really.


	41. Making it

**Making it**

Sam arrives in Palo Alto a whole month before classes start. He knows he should be feeling something. Excitement. Anger at his family. Fear for the unknown. He doesn't really feel anything though.

There's no way he can afford to stay in Palo Alto, not even with the couple hundreds that magically appeared on his duffel and that he only found half way over here. He goes to downtown San Francisco and gets a motel room. The "two queens" leave his mouth before he can't stop it and he quickly fixes it. Just one. Just one will do.

First day, he sleeps in. He's exhausted and he tells himself it's because of the three day bus trip.

Second day, he ventures out. He walks around without a direction. Just walks, until his legs are sore. Stops for lunch. He catches a bus to Palo Alto in the afternoon and sits in front of the Stanford gates. He just stares at it. He made it. Did he really make it?

Third day, he goes sightseeing. He's been to San Francisco before. Mostly on his father's way somewhere else. Once, a couple years ago, to pop a poltergeist. Poltergeists apparently love those San Francisco houses. It was supposed to be an easy job. Poltergeists are easy. Hunters 101. It took them three weeks. He never got to check out the city.

Fourth day, he goes job searching. Manages a waiter gig at a local diner. A bar would pay more and he actually enters one before remembering he is, in fact, far for 21 and his fake IDs are with his brother. It's okay, though. The money he "found" in his duffel is enough to last him a couple weeks in the motel. He just needs the job to keep busy.

Sam doesn't think much. He wakes up, runs, works out, goes to work, comes back to the room, sleeps. Waits. Keeps expecting to see an Impala or a truck in every corner. Thinks he sees a blond head following him a couple times. Just holds his breath and keeps rehearsing what he is going to say when his brother or his father show up to drag him back.

They don't.

Days pass and they don't.

His phone rings at 3 AM the second Saturday night and his brother's name is on the screen. Sam holds the phone and holds his breath and before he can make a decision the ringing stops.

The following Saturday, Sam makes friends with a couple of road tripping idiots staying at the same motel just to get his hands on some alcohol. He gets drunk and he's so fucking mad and he's so fucking sad and Dean is such a goddammed fucking _asshole_ and Dean should fucking be _here_. Sam's grinding his teeth and most definitely not sobbing and he's dialing and he's going to tell Dean all about it and… the number he's been trying to reach has been disconnected, the electronic voice says.

It sobers him up good.

School starts the following week. He looks around the other students and feels like when he was little and got to school wearing Dean's battered hand-me-downs.

His counselor is a petit woman and she's babbling about the wonderful opportunities of higher education. She sets him up with a dorm room, explains the demands to keep his scholarship and helps him figure out a schedule. She explains how the scholarship may seem like a lot of money, but they are in Palo Alto and the cost of living is very high and the books he'll have to get are expensive, as if Sam failed at Math and didn't realize this himself a whole forty minutes before. She says she has a position open for an assistant that he's pretty sure she invented for him just now because she looks at him like his middle school teachers did when they invited him over for dinner. Sam didn't fail at Math, though, so he accepts it.

He goes back to the motel, packs his things. He takes the gun on the waistband of his jeans. He takes the one on his left ankle. He takes the extra one on his duffle, the knife under his pillow, the one on his right ankle, the ammunition, the curved blade, his shotgun. He stares.

He holds the Taurus. His main gun. His favorite gun. Dean's present for his 15th birthday. He glances at the curved blade, Dean's present for his 10th. He puts them both at his duffle, with a couple of bullets – lead, iron, salt.

Dean cut off his connection with Sam. Sam can't bring himself to do the same.

He takes the rest of the weaponry to a pawn shop. He's fully aware that the owner is paying him less than what's fair, but he doesn't care. He takes the bills and walks to the first mall he can find.

He buys new clothes. Nothing fancy like his colleagues wear, but new anyway. New, light colored, light weight, not stained with his family's blood. He buys shirts, pants, socks, shoes, underwear, a new duffle. His old clothes stay in his old duffel and his old duffel goes to the front steps of a church. Stained and old they may be, but they could still dress someone in need.

It's weird to walk without being armed. He feels half out of balance, half naked. The Impala never shows in any corner and he checks his six every ten seconds.

He gets to his dorm room and meets his roommate, Elliot.

Elliot is from Seattle, he has two little sisters named Caitlin and Sarah, his father is a doctor and his mother is a lawyer and he thinks the room is too small. The room is bigger than any room Sam has ever lived in. The room is bigger than most apartments he ever lived in. The room is so much bigger than the Impala. The room has a closet and shelves and drawers and all Sam has is a duffel.

Elliot is not sure about this whole roommate thing. He never had to share a room in his life and thinks the whole thing is stupid anyway, because he can afford an apartment, but his father is such an asshole and is adamant on him staying in this stupid fucking hole. Sam wonders what adjective Elliot would use on John Winchester as he nods and agrees and laughs on cue and tries not to think about the person he shared a room with for all his life.

Elliot goes to a frat party the first night. Sam lies he's going out with some friends, but he stays in and stares at the ceiling until he falls asleep.

His eyes open at 6h30 sharp, like every day of his life, like he's been conditioned to do, but he awakes only when he reaches down the pillow and finds it empty. He starts off the bed but catches himself. He doesn't get up. He doesn't go out to run. He doesn't work out.

He stays in bed until 8. Then he gets up, showers, shaves, dresses. He looks at himself at the mirror and feels younger and older at the same time.

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He made it.

He made it out.


	42. Not a hunter

Spoilers up to 6x01

**Not a hunter**

Mary doesn't hunt anymore, but she'll always be a hunter.

There's no forgetting what she knows.

During the day, she lives the life she wants to live. She's a mom, she bakes pies, takes Dean to the park, takes Sammy for a stroll, cooks for John, cleans the house.

During the night, she lives the life she has to live. She checks wards, paints devils traps under rugs, plants hoodoo weeds, chants incantations, writes protection charms on her sons' bedrooms, lays salt on her front door, mumbles Latin under her breath. She has nightmares and wakes up screaming her parent's names.

There's no forgetting what she knows.

She is a hunter.

But she's not.

Azazel slips past her and she doesn't even notice. She's out of practice, she's not caught up, she's old and tired and she's not a hunter, not anymore.

When she opens her eyes and sees John, she knows.

She screwed up and she lost everything she ever wanted.

SPNSPNSPN

Sam doesn't hunt anymore, but he'll always be a hunter.

There's no forgetting what he knows.

During the day, he lives the life he wants to live. He's a college student, goes to class, studies for exams, reads in the library, works at a coffee shop, takes his girlfriend out, drinks with his friends.

During the night, he lives the life he has to live. He checks wards, paints devils traps under rugs, waters the hoodoo weeds Pastor Jim got him, chants incantations, writes protection charms on Jessica's car, accidently drops salt on entrances, studies Latin so he doesn't forget it. He has nightmares and wakes up screaming his brother's name.

There's no forgetting what he knows.

He is a hunter.

But he's not.

Brady slips past him and he doesn't even notice. He's out of practice, he's not caught up, he's older and tired and he's not a hunter, not anymore.

When he opens his eyes and sees Jessica, he knows.

He screwed up and he lost everything he ever wanted.

SPNSPNSPN

Dean doesn't hunt anymore, but he'll always be a hunter. There's no forgetting what he knows.

During the day, he lives the life he wants to live. He's husband and a dad, he takes Ben to school, watches Ben's soccer games, goes to work, helps Lisa with the dishes, kisses her forehead and watches a movie with her in their couch.

During the night, he lives the life he has to live. He checks wards, paints devils traps everywhere Lisa lets him, waters the hoodoo weeds Bobby got him, chants incantations, writes protection charms on Ben and Lisa's rooms, lays salt on doors and windows, studies Latin so he doesn't forget it. He has nightmares and wakes up screaming his brother's name.

There's no forgetting what he knows.

He is a hunter.

But he's not.

The djinn slips past him and he doesn't even notice. He's out of practice, he's not caught up, he's old and tired and he's not a hunter, not anymore.

When he opens his eyes and sees Sammy, he knows.

He screwed up and everything he wanted… he got it right back.


	43. Mine

Spoilers for the S5 Finale. Mild spoilers for the S6 Finale.

**Mine**

"_I guess I'll take my car."_

Once, when he was a boy, Sam hated the Impala.

The Impala was Dad. It was hard, dark, furious, indestructible, always carrying them around someplace Sam never wanted to go.

He hated how his entire world could fit in the trunk. How he could never have anything for himself that wouldn't fit on a duffle. He hated the leather seats that glued to his skin, how alone he felt on the backseat while his brother and father talked about things that he was always too young to understand. He hated walking back from school to see Dean and Dad hunched over the hood, trading tools. He hated the smile only Dean could get out of his Dad and only when they were hunched under that hood.

He hated hearing the roar of the engine from blocks away, letting him know his time was up wherever he was. Dad was back, the car was back, they were moving on.

He dreamed of opening the back door and getting out on the road while it was still moving, rolling on the asphalt. Wondered how long it would take for Dad or Dean to notice. He dreamed of a life with a roof made of bricks and cement instead of metal and leather.

And he got it. For the briefest of moments, he got it.

Never felt like home, though.

Years later when Dean showed up on his living room and convinced him to go look for Dad, Sam had to hold his breath as he opened the car's door. He let himself drop against the seat, breathed in the smell, all his instincts screaming: home, home, home. He always found it odd how homesick he felt in Stanford for someone who never had a home. But he did. He did.

And on the very same weekend he realized where his home really was, he lost everything else.

Dean grabbed him and saved him and carried him and drove him and Sam cried, head flushed against the upholstery, not even remembering how many of his tears had that leather been soaked in before.

His life was back on a duffel, his world was back in the car. But he didn't hate it anymore.

The Impala was Dean. It was fierce, irrational, unconditional love, always protecting and guarding no matter what Sam did, no matter where Sam went.

The car was his life and Dean was his life and Sam was a man, no longer resentful of things he never had, just so glad to have his precious few.

The car, mullet rock, leather, whisky, gun powder, Dean.

Then the Apocalypse came. And he had to watch through Lucifer's eyes to really see.

The Impala was Sam's. His life, his home, guardian of his tears and his blood and his family.

The Impala was Sam.

"_- That's mine._

_- Are you sure?_

_- Oh yeah."_


	44. John can't save Sam

2x01

**John can't save Sam **

John can't save Sam. He can't. Maybe if he knew before what he knows now, how the world would hang in the balance of his youngest's word, maybe he could save his relationship with his son in order to save everything. Maybe the end of the world would be enough for him to be a real parent. To let things slide, to let them go, to not go to the mat for every single argument. To make him act like the grown up at least once.

Maybe if Sam trusted him, believed in him, loved him... But John screwed that up a long time ago. So many years ago he's not even sure when it exactly happened. Sam has no trust in him, nothing but resentment and contempt and hurt. John can't save Sam.

Dean can.

John knows it. The only one who can save his youngest is his eldest. Even after everything, Dean is still the only one Sam trusts, the only one Sam listens, the only one stubborn and self-righteous Sam allows himself to follow. Dean is the only one who can save his brother and he won't even care if the world is saved doing so.

Dean can save Sam.

He can.

Dean is dying. Brain injury, not breathing on his own. Sam thinks his spirit is walking around somewhere. Probably running from reapers.

Dean will be dead by sunrise and John will lose both his sons. Dean will die and no one will save Sam. John will have to either lose his baby boy, Mary's baby, to the dark or kill him (he won't, he won't, he will never).

John can't kill Sam. Won't. Ever.

John can't save Sam.

Dean can save him.

Dean is dying.

Dean has to live.

John makes it so. Saves Dean to save Sam and at this point he really, really doesn't care if the world is saved doing so. He just wants his boys safe. Together.

He tells it clear to Dean: save Sam or kill him. Because he knows. He knows. Dean will never kill his little brother, his Sammy, this kid he loves so much more than the world or himself. So Dean will save Sam. He will.

Dean is alive. Sam is beside him. Sam is smiling.

Smiling.

John can't remember the last time he saw his son smile with true happiness. Years, definitely. Maybe a decade.

He takes Sammy's smile with him as he walks back to his room.

The fight is not over. But John has nothing to offer but a useless old gun.

And his soul.


	45. True hell

Season 3.

**True Hell**

There's only one place for people who make deals with demons.

It doesn't even matter if your soul is not in the bargain, it turns out. Heaven won't take you, no matter how noble your intentions were. They never taught that in Hunters 101.

Mary Winchester walks into Hell with all the sins of being a Campbell.

She's there for years and decades and eons before she sees true Hell. She fights the pull, she trashes and she doesn't let her eyes turn black. She'll not become the very thing that cursed her family.

John walks in to Hell.

Mary didn't think she'd be capable of feeling again. She is. She tears her hair out.

John. Johnny. Pure, kind, loving John Winchester walks into Hell and it's her fault. It's all her fault. He was perfect and she tainted him. She was stupid and irresponsible, and she might as well have dragged him into Hell herself. She has dragged him into Hell herself. She did this. Her father warned her.

Alaistair saves a front row seat for Mary at John's rack. He can't see her. Alaistair won't let him, he thinks John'll strenghen by seeing her. And again: the point of this torture is not him. It's a torture for her.

But she still hasn't seen true Hell.

John escapes. John escapes.

John escapes.

Mary has no idea how or where or why. Or what happens now. What happens to souls fugitives from Hell, rejected by Heaven, not turned into ghosts? They never taught that at Hunters 101 either.

She breathes easily for a moment, a few decades, barely nothing in Hell-time and then.. then…

Then her baby walks in.

Her baby. Her Dean. Her angel, her little angel, walks into Hell and he's screaming.

Terrified.

Mary wishes she could die again.

Dean screams and screams and screams. Nonstop for years.

Hell has a tendency to revert people to childhood. They scream for mommy and daddy and cry. Dean only screams for his brother.

He screams for Sam, Sam, Sammy, Sammy, please, help, Sam, Sam, come back, Sam.

Mary gets a front row seat at Alaistair's rack again. She thought she could get used to pain. She can't. Every single one of Dean's screams cut at her heart, the one she shouldn't have anymore. For ten years straight, he screams for Sam. Then, for another ten, he trashes and curses. The third decade is the worst. Dean whimpers and cries and sobs. He sobs his brother's name and cries. The fourth, he's silent.

And then he says _yes._

Dean says yes to Alaistair and this, this is Hell. This is true Hell.

Dean, her baby, her baby, her angel, her little angel, becomes Alaistair's star pupil. A torturer. Alaistair coos in his ear, eyes locked to Mary's and Dean can't see her. She never let her eyes turn black and her baby is falling, falling so fast to the dark. The darkness in his eyes is terrifying.

Mary wonders how long until he's so far gone that Alistair can put her in the rack and he won't notice.

Then she looks up... and there's _light_.


	46. Sam is calling

Spoilers for 7x01. If you didn't watch it, DO NOT READ. Big spoiler of big nice scene you should definitely, definitely watch before reading this.

**Sam is calling**

Sam is calling.

Castiel is bleeding. His vessel never bled this long, this… much. He can't stop it. He feels his body getting weaker, his resolve… failing. He can't stop bleeding. He's going to crash…

Sam is calling.

Sam.

Sam is calling.

Sam is calling and saying he is still one of them.

It's a trap. Probably. Most likely. The Winchesters are probably in the middle of another plan to kill him. And this time… they might actually be able to do it. He is weak. He is so weak.

Sam is calling.

Sam's voice is so… Sam's. Sam is back now. All back, whole in a way Castiel has never seen him. Whole in a way he can only recognize from the descriptions Dean gave from before. Before the cage. Way before the cage. Way before the Apocalypse. Sam is back and he seems to be the way he was supposed to be. Sam is… calling.

Sam is calling.

It's a trap. But maybe… maybe Castiel should die now. Maybe this is a good time. Maybe he's done enough. He tried… he tried to save them, save them all, save the world. He tried to show a better way, a better world. He failed. He went too far off, he was self-righteous, he's bleeding and maybe he should die. Or worse. If he had a soul, he should probably ask Crowley for a place in Hell. Maybe he should walk inside Hell anyway, soul or not. Walk into Hell out of his own free will. For penance. Like Sam.

Sam is calling.

Sam came back from Hell. Back from the cage, with all the pieces Castiel left there. Sam went to Hell for penance. Sam walked into Hell, body and soul, out of his own free will. For penance. Because… because he went too far off thinking he could save the world. Sam went too far off, Sam was self-righteous, Sam… redeemed himself. Sam redeemed himself to Dean. Dean forgave him.

Dean…

Dean said Castiel was like a brother to him.

Like Sam.

Sam is calling.

Sam is calling.

Sam is _calling._

A blink. He's there.

"Sam. I heard your call."


	47. Ain't funny at all

I know, I know, two in a row. Mood struck, what can I say. If you are getting this chapter now, know that the previous one is new also. ;)

After the S3 finale, before the S4 premiere.

**Ain't funny at all**

Dean has been dead for 32 days and Sam has been gone for 29 when Bobby's phone rings in the middle of the night.

Bobby's not sleeping. He's barely slept since the hellhounds came for Dean, taking half of the only thing resembling a family he had left. He started hitting the bottle hard since Sam took off in the middle of the night, taking the other half.

He's awake and drinking and researching. Even though it's pointless. Even if all the lore and all the books and every single person he ever met say it's impossible. He researches. Maybe he missed something. Maybe it's right there.

His phone rings but there's no sound on the other side.

There doesn't have to be. Bobby's heart knows who's calling, like a mother, like the mother his Karen never had the chance to be. He settles back on his chair and stays as quiet as possible.

Can't help but be engulfed in relief just to hear the boy breathing.

They stay like that, in silence, for a few minutes until Bobby hears that breathing catching. A sob. A sniffle. Kid's breaking his heart and he really didn't think there were any pieces left.

"Sam… you are not alone."

You are not alone, Sam. Kid, I'm here. Son, I got you. Boy, just talk to me.

Bobby's been saying variations of the same thing every day for the past 29 of them. Every day. Never to him actually, always to the eletronic voices of his voicemails. Of Dean's voicemails. Of John's. Bobby's been calling every single number he ever had of any Winchester and leaving the same messages every single day.

I'm here, kid. Come back. Come home.

For the first time in all those days there's a warm body listening as he speaks. And it takes awhile, a few more minutes, but it's there. Sam's voice.

Barely a voice. Barely a whisper.

"Bobby…"

Sam chokes on the word, Bobby chokes on something climbing up his chest.

"Dean's dead, Bobby."

Yeah. Yeah. He is.

"I know, kid."

"Dad's dead too."

"Sam…"

What does he say to that? What does he say?

"I know, Sam."

"No, you don't understand…"

Bobby is about to say that yes, he does understand, he does, but then Sam is laughing.

Sam is laughing this horrible, painful laugh, full of sorrow and tears and it ain't funny at all.

"Dean is dead and dad is dead and I'm _hunting_, Bobby. I'm hunting!"

Bobby shuts his eyes. Oh, Sam…

"If you ever get a spell, Bobby, like a time travel spell, will you let me know?". He doesn't let Bobby answer, just goes straight on. "Let me know, just let me know. 'Cause I wanna go back. I wanna go back and talk to myself, when I was in school. I'll tell me just how it'll all play out… how I'm gonna be all alone, no dad, no Dean and _hunting_."

"You're not alone, Sam". It's his mantra, he'll say it to his grave, he doesn't care if the boy doesn't listen, it's the truth.

Sam's laughter is cut by a sob. Bobby's heart is cut by a sob.

"I wanted so bad to be alone…"

The kid is so consumed with guilt he's drowning.

"This is not what you wanted, Sam. You know it's not. They knew it too."

Sam mumbles his denial.

"No, I wanted to be alone, Bobby. I wanted it. I dreamed about it, I planed it, I schemed it, I left. I left them and I told them I didn't want to be with them. And they are dead, Bobby. They are dead. I told them I didn't want to be with them and I didn't want to hunt and they are dead and I'm _hunting_. That's… that's irony for you, man. Life doesn't get more ironic than that," Sam's laughing again, lighter, quieter.

"Dean is dead and dad is dead. Pastor Jim is dead and Caleb is dead and Jeff is dead. And _I'm_ the one that is hunting. Isn't that funny, Bobby? Isn't it?".

It ain't funny at all.

"You don't have to hunt, Sam."

Sam snorts.

"You don't. You've done enough, kid. You earned your rest. Just come home and we'll figure something out…"

"NO!"

It's such an abrupt change in mood, Bobby jumps a little.

"No, no, no, no. I'll not stop. I'll never stop," Sam's voice is hard and dark and Bobby can hear his teeth gritting.

Sam's voice is John's.

"I'll hunt all my life. I'll kill Lilith, Bobby. She took my brother and I will kill her, I'll kill her bloody."

It's John. It's John all over again, promising revenge, promising to get Mary's killer, promising blood and thunderstorms and vengeance. It takes Bobby aback.

"I'll kill her and I'll not stop hunting. I'll kill her and then I'll kill them all. All demons, one by one, every single one that ever hurt my family, that ever hurt any family, I'll get them all, Bobby. I'll never stop."

No. Not John.

This is darker. This is… scarier.

Bobby doesn't scare easy and he's scared for Sam. Of Sam. All the same, really.

"Sam…"

Sam is back to being silent, but his breathing is ragged. Bobby can hear the harsh intakes.

"Sam?"

No answer.

Bobby lets his head hit the chair again.

"I miss them too, Sam."

A sob.

"Come ho…". The call is cut.

Silence.

Bobby shuts his eyes.

Twenty something years of criticizing John Winchester's parenting skills and when Bobby has the chance to do better, he can't get through to Sam at all. Somewhere, God knows where, he's sure the man is snickering.

Maybe not.

It ain't funny at all.


	48. If it feels good

Yes, I'm in the whump!Sam mode. This is a S7 drabble that will maybe be rendered AU by next episode. If you're trying to remain spoiler free for S7 you should probably not read it. If you don't care about things like that or if you've watched 7x01 already, you're good.

**If it feels good**

"Sam?"

Sam is crouched in the corner of Bobby's living room when Dean is startled awake in the couch. He's trying to make himself go as further away from an invisible threat as possible, which isn't very far considering his back is flat against the wall and his knees are all the way up to his shoulders. His breathing is coming out in shallow, rapid bursts. He's terrified.

"Sammy?"

Dean has to grip tight to his very soul not to give in to his most basic instinct and go right there right now and grab Sam. His brother is a dangerous man, a trained killer and he's very literally out of his mind. You don't corner an injured tiger.

"Sammy?"

He crouches to Sam's eye level, but his brother doesn't see him. Sam's eyes are shut tight and he's whispering a never-ending string of "no's" and "stop's". Dean tries a soothing tone, almost a whisper. "Sammy? Sammy… hey, look at me."

Sam doesn't, but his breathing changes. His posture is inquisitive, like he's wondering where the voice comes from. "Sam… it's me, Dean. Your brother," he adds. Maybe Sam needs the clarification.

He doesn't. Sam snaps his eyes open and when he locks them to Dean's he's no older than the 8 year-old kid Dean tried to soothe when he had a nightmare after finding out monsters were real.

"Dean… Dean… help…"

It's strangled, it's eight octaves higher than Sam's normal voice and fuck this, Dean is going right there right now.

He knees in front of Sam, his left hand on his brother's bicep, his right behind the neck and he pulls Sam to him. Sam's head falls to his shoulder, his head hits Dean's collarbone hard and Dean twines his fingers through his brother's hair.

"You're safe, Sammy. You're good. You're home. I got you."

Sam shakes his head and sobs. "No… not real. Not real." Dean is about to confirm that yes, whatever he's seeing is definitely not real, but then he says "you're not real" and Dean freezes. So much for the so-called being able to tell real from not, apparently.

He moves to raise Sam's chin, forces him to look up. "I'm real, Sam. I'm here, I'm real, I'm with you. Whatever you're seeing is not, dude. I am".

Sam doesn't look at him, shuts his eyes tight, turns his face, like it's too much, too hard to look at him at all. He shakes his head. "No. No. It's a game. I'm still in the cage, I'm still in the cage. Still here, never left."

It's Dean's turn to shut his eyes. He drops his forehead to the top of Sam's head. "Shit, Sammy," he breathes out.

He's been there before, where Sam is. He knows it, the feeling, the terrifying feeling. He still remembers Alastair in his head, in his nightmares. _"This is real, Dean-o. This is you awake… when you're there is when you're dreaming. Dreameeeer!"_

But, no. No. None of that shit is real, none of Sam's shit is real.

This is real.

Sam's hands clutch his t-shirt and pull him closer. He buries his head in Dean's chest, like when he was a kid and wanted to hide from the word. He breathes Dean in. Tries to commit him to memory. Dean knows what that's like, what a powerful sense smell is to ground you. He wore Sam's shirts for months after he got back.

He grabs the back of his brother's head and pulls him up, head over his shoulder and pulls him to a proper hug. Sam's hands go behind his back and grab tight. He might crack one of Dean's ribs there. Dean doesn't care.

His hands map out the huge expanse of Sam's back, soothing, calming and he's shooshing in his brother's ear like when he was a baby that would not sleep to save his life. Dean blinks back tears at the memory. God, they'd been fucked up from day one, haven't they?

It still works, 29 years and change later. Sam's shoulders slump, his breathing slows. Dean feels him calming down. "Feels good, Sammy, doesn't it?"

Sam's answer is a sniffle.

"Doesn't it?"

Sam grabs him tighter.

"That's how you know, Sammy. That's how you know you're out."

He can tell Sam is listening by the total and complete stillness.

"Hell doesn't give hope, Sammy. And it doesn't give reprieve. There's no good times to make you feel bad later. There's no good times ever, at all. It's all pain all the time. You know this, Sam. You know it. I know it too. If it feels good, if anything feels good, then you're out. That's the trick."

That's the trick. That's how you tie your shoes, Sammy. That's how you ride a bike. That's how you shoot a gun. That's how you know what two times four is. That's how you kill a werewolf, that's how you gank a spirit. That's how you drive.

This is how you survive Hell.

If it feels good, you're out.

That's how Dean knows, to this day. That's why Dean tries to feel good, every day. Why the bottle turned out to be his best friend. If he feels good, he's out. Sam knows it too. That's why Sam lets him. Fills his glass, joins him, enables him, doesn't complain. As fucked up goes, alcoholic still beats suicidally psychopathically insane. Every day.

Sam's breathing catches and Dean feels his shoulder getting wet. He doesn't care.

"You're good, Sam. You're out."


	49. Not supposed to hunt alone

Spoilers for 7x06. May be rendered AU by 7x07.

I'm not happy with this, but whatever, it's an update, right? Lol

**Not supposed to hunt alone**

John Winchester didn't train soldiers. He trained brothers.

They didn't need to learn how to hunt alone, because they were not _supposed_ to hunt alone. This was not a career choice. His sons were not supposed to be hunters.

This was temporary. Just until they caught Mary's killer, the one who came for Sammy and then they would be safe. And then they would stand down. Settle down. Go back home to Kansas, get a house, an education, a job, a family, give him some grandkids who would not ever touch a gun, ever.

(Well, maybe not to Kansas. He was still wanted over there, after a shapeshifter hunt gone wrong. Maybe Sioux Falls or Blue Earth. Singer and Jim always were the closest thing the boys ever had to relatives. It would be good for them to be close.)

John Winchester didn't train separated soldiers. He trained a unit. He trained them to play to their strengths and complement each other. Because they had to watch each other's backs, keep each other safe, alive, well. When John was out of reach, he had to trust that each individual weakness was matched by the other's strength.

That's why Dean has the strategy and Sammy has the research. Dean has good gut instincts, but no patience. Sam has unmatched concentration, but overanalyzes everything. Dean can make people fear, Sam can make them fearless. Dean can bulls eye anything with any gun ever made by man. Sammy is faster and more agile. Dean has the weapons training; Sam, the hand to hand. Dean runs faster, Sam swims better. Dean keeps the gas tank filled, Sam gets the groceries. Dean takes care of the money, Sam handles the maps.

They are a team. One doesn't work without the other. And they are not supposed to. John doesn't want soldiers, he wants his sons alive. They have to stick together.

They are not supposed to hunt alone.

SPNSPNSPNSPN

Dean learns that lesson soon enough. As soon as Sam leaves for school and Dad ditches him, so drunk Dean isn't sure how he makes it to the highway.

It's not as if he can't do this alone, but it is so much harder. Everything. He thought it would only be the research part. He could never be bothered by it. He tried, but why the hell would he need to memorize anything in Latin when Sammy was fluent on the thing? Well, now he knows why.

The research sucks. It takes so much longer without Sam. And it's not as if there is a Hunter Encyclopedia he could just check to give him answers. He can't call Bobby. Last time Dean saw the man, he was getting his shotgun and aiming for Dad. True, for Dad, Bobby probably wouldn't shoot Dean. Pretty sure. But Dad would be pissed if he knew Dean went to him for help.

He can't call Pastor Jim either. He'd have to say he was hunting alone and then Jim would fight with Dad… again. Like Dean isn't 24 and needs a fucking babysitter.

The research sucks, but he works around it. Tries to take the jobs where the bad guy is easier to figure out. Hauntings are easy enough. The only research required is to find out who the dead dude is, the rest is pretty much always the same. Dig. Salt. Burn. Cover the hole. Get the car. Move to the next town.

The real bitch of it is… all the other stuff he relied on Sam to do. From checking the goddammed maps to making sure they have enough salt. And talking to the victims. God. Dean hates talking to the victims. Unless they are young and female, it is so fucking hard to get across them. Sam just bats puppy dog eyes and they are eating out of his hand.

The job gets done, sure. But it's so much harder.

Dean can do it alone, he just doesn't want to.

He breathes in. Breathes out.

Dad is missing. He has an excuse. He goes to get Sam back.

They are not supposed to hunt alone.

SPNSPNSPNSPN

Sam learns the same lesson, just a whole of a lot harder. Because Dean isn't there and as far as he knows, as far as he's researched (and it's pretty fucking far), Dean isn't coming back.

Sam is alone and on a mission and it is so much harder without Dean. For all he ever complained about being bossed around, he never really realized how much he depended on his brother.

Dean tried to teach him before he died, but Sam couldn't really pay any attention to most of it. His brother would start talking about shit he had to learn how to do on his own and Sam would nod and agree and breath through his mouth while he tried to hold on to his damned soul not to cry, not to let his face fall, not to drop to his knees and bawl.

He thought the hardest part would be the car. It's not. The car is strong and steady and it's almost as if she knows she can't bail on Sam now, like she knows she's all that's left. The maintenance stuff, Sam can handle. He spent his life riding in that same car with two mechanics by heart, if not by choice. He picked up on the basics.

Taking care of the car is not hard at all, he manages it. The problem is… it's everything else. Credit card fraud is a bitch and Dean is the one who had it mastered. Hustling without a wingman is almost damn near impossible. And that is not even counting the actual hunting part. Sam had grown used to falling in line behind his brother, doing as he silently said with his eyes. Dean was always sure, Sam is never sure. He always second guesses himself on the field. He takes too long, he analyzes too much.

The job gets done, but it's so much harder. Sam needs someone, he needs guidance and validation. In hindsight, it's pretty obvious to see how easy it was for Ruby to trick him. Even soulless, why he so quickly joined the Campbells.

So Sam knows. He knows.

Sam's pissed off, God, yes, he is so fucking beyond pissed off. Dean lied to him. Dean killed his friend. After everything, after Hell and Lucifer and that speech on the car about how Sam was a grown-up now and not a snot-nosed kid, Dean lied. Sam was at his lowest and he trusted Dean to be the base stone of his entire reality and Dean lied. Dean promised what he said was truth and he lied. Sam is angry. Enraged. Pissed-off.

Heartbroken.

But what the hell else is he going to do? He has to hunt. There's nothing else out there. His name is on the federal database as a dead serial killer. All his aliases are on Leviathan's hands. He can't do anything else. All he has is the job. The hunt.

Sam does want to do it alone, he just can't.

He breathes in. Breathes out.

He'll work the case with Dean.

They are not supposed to hunt alone.


	50. This is normal

Spoilers for 7x07.

**This is normal**

Just a little over a week.

It was just that. Just a little over a week. Not a big deal. Dean is sure there are loads of 33 year-old dudes out there who don't talk to their 29 year-old brothers for over a week. Even when said brother is not pissed. This is what grown-ups do.

This is normal.

He's even more sure that there are hundreds of pissed off little brothers who don't answer their older sibling's calls. Or text messages. Or voicemails.

This is normal.

Everybody always said as much. Lisa said it plenty. Lisa was close to her sister, tight even, and she easily went by two, three weeks without talking to her. Syd, his neighbor back in Indiana, said once he only talked to his sisters on holidays.

This is normal.

This is what everybody does.

'Sides, Sam is good. Safe. Soul in place. Able-bodied, as well trained as ever. He was the one that took the lead in pretty much every job they worked the past few weeks. Sam is fine. Yeah, he is seeing the devil, but apparently the whole _shooting_at the devil thing seems to be over. Sam seems to be in control of whatever he has in his head.

And Bobby is keeping an eye on him. Even if he won't take Dean's calls, Sam still takes Bobby's. Checks in. Lets him know he's alive, safe, soul in place and not shooting at the devil. Bobby's on him.

Sam is a grown up. Sam is safe. There is no Apocalypse anymore and Lucifer is still very much contained in his cage. Leviathans are after them, but if Dean is being honest, separating is probably a good thing to get them off their trail.

And Sam can take care of himself. Dean doesn't need to take care of him. Not anymore.

This is normal.

This is good.

Sam won't be pissed forever. They've been over too much crap and forgiven faults much worse, Dean knows. Sam knows it too, probably. Bobby is sure, or so he keeps telling Dean over and over.

Sam won't be pissed forever and he'll eventually answer Dean's calls and they'll talk again. And they'll work a job or two together every once in awhile, then split again, then meet at their birthdays, visit Bobby sometimes.

They are grown ups and the world is not ending. Not anymore. They don't have to live off each other's pockets. There is no logical need for a 33 year-old man to spend every moment of every day with his 29 year-old brother. They should have separate lives and that doesn't mean anything bad.

It's just… normal. This is normal.

SPNSPNSPN

When Dean hears Sam's voice over a packed restaurant, there's something on his insides that fucking _jump_.

It's Sam. Sam's voice. Sam is over there. And Dean can't help but miss him as if he'd been gone a year – and Dean can tell because he knows how _that_ feels like.

He's moving before he even knows what he's doing and he's talking and talking as if he can overpower Sam's scolding face by will of his flooding words alone.

Sam's pissed. Sam's angry. Sam's not going to give an inch, but then the stupid waiter comes with his stupid affirmation and there's something _there_. There, on Sam. On Sam's eyes and Dean is hopeful for something he can't even put in to words.

That something is there all case long.

Sam tries, he tries so hard, to remain pissed. To keep his face tight. He keeps the stupid ugly-ass car he rented (and renting a car instead of taking one is proof enough his soul is in place and he's good 100% Sam there, the Bobby-voice that lives in Dean's head says). He asks for two rooms in the motel. But he pauses.

He pauses for a second before crossing the street outside of the restaurant to get into his own car. He pauses for two when he orders a separate room at the motel. He keeps giving Dean sidelong glances and averts his eyes when Dean grins at him just to spite.

When the case is over and Sam, the most stubborn person on the planet, the man that literally willed the devil into doing what he wanted, laughs against his will, it is the fucking greatest sound Dean has heard in…. well, feels like ever. Sam safe, sound and soul in place laughing at Dean's jokes.

Dean never had one, not really, but it feels like _home_.

When he goes outside and Sam is putting his bags in the car Dean can't help but feel like this is exactly where his brothers bags belong: right next to his.

And this… _this_ is normal.


	51. Home is where the Winchesters are

Spoilers up to 7x03.

**Home is where the ****heart is****  
(Home is where the Winchesters are)**

The first time Bobby ever saw a Winchester, there were three of them.

He'd heard of John before, through the grapevine. What hunter hadn't? Lost his wife in those weird nursery fires the previous year. A few guys had checked those out, but didn't find squat. No EMF, no sulfur, no anomalies, no nothing. They all had agreed it had been a serial killer of the human variety with a fixation on six month-old babies before John showed up, claiming his wife was trapped in the ceiling while she burned.

Bobby had no idea what could do that, back then. Half the bets were on a poltergeist, the other half on an elemental. Neither hopped through state lines, so Bobby guessed it could be a Chimera, even if those were never seen outside of Europe. Nobody thought it could ever be a demon. Nobody thought demons did much more than hand crappy deals and be general douchebags back then.

John was looking for clues when he showed up on Bobby's porch the first time. In good old 1984, there were no fancy cell phones or internet to easy up research. John kept going through states, through hunters, through libraries, looking for anything that could help him track a thing without even knowing what it was. It looked desperate. Looking back, life was so much easier.

Bobby didn't really know what to expect when he got Murphy's call that he had sent Winchester up his way. The pastor wasn't really forthcoming. Said John was a good man, but Murphy said that about pretty much everyone. And Winchester didn't really have what you would call a good rep.

It really meant something to be considered crazy among hunters. At least 80% of them, functional alcoholics (the other 20% were non-functional). Most had been through the loony bin once or twice. But apparently John Winchester had managed to impress his craziness on the bunch. Hunting with a baby and a toddler could do that, after all.

Stories had piled on and on about his manic driving cross-country dragging his sons around. One hunter Bobby met on Harvelle's a few months before swore up and down he saw Winchester face a werewolf while carrying his son on a baby sling across his back. Which wasn't entirely true. It was not the baby, but his eldest and there was no sling, he was carrying him on his arm. Also, it wasn't a werewolf, but a wolf of the regular kind that had attacked Dean when they were camping.

But Bobby would only find out about that months later, from Dean's mouth. At that first moment, the image before his eyes did little to assuage John's reputation. It was the middle of the night, for starters, way past any child's bed time. He held a baby on his right arm and Bobby could see clearly the pearly shaped handle of a handgun on his left side, inches from the child's feet. By his side, a spiked hair kid, not a breath older than six, holding himself together sharp and straight as if he was 25.

He welcomed them inside already looking for a good excuse to send them packing. Bobby didn't like kids. Babies freaked him out. He knew about John's family but he honestly had hoped the man would have the sense to come by alone.

He got the books he had separated and refrained from offering a drink or a coffee. But when Winchester got up and said he'd be at the Willow Motel down the road… Bobby knew for a fact that place had no heating. And they were in November. He looked at that kid playing with his baby brother on his lap. He couldn't.

Bobby offered John a place to stay for the night and Winchester wasn't so proud as he was poor, so he accepted it. It was the first night Sam and Dean slept on his raggedy old couch. Back then, he had no idea how important that would be.

He does now.

Almost thirty years and an Apocalypse-that-wasn't later, they were still there, at that same spot. Not both, of course. They got big, too big. If they were honest, the couch was way too small for even one of them. Not that it stopped them from leaving it and using the spare room. Sam slept on the couch, Dean on pillows on the floor, same as it had been when they were kids. Dean was the smaller brother now, but Sam couldn't convince him to trade. And when Bobby lost his legs and his bed went to the first floor, Sam just joined Dean on the floor.

Bobby realizes now how much of his sanity depends on that small thing.

His house is gone.

That couch burned away to nothing.

Bobby thinks maybe he should feel sad about it. Some pain. But see, he doesn't. He didn't lose the tools of his trade, he had enough copies. And he didn't lose the most important thing of all. In Whitefish, Montana, on Rufus' old cabin, Sam is sleeping on the couch, stubborn Dean, even with a cast, is on the floor.

John's journal, the last possession of the man that brought those boys in to his life is sitting on the kitchen table. In all those years, Bobby never touched it. It was too private, too personal, too much the boys'. Their last link to their old man.

He touches it now. Holds his hand over the thick leather. Looks at the boys. Sleeping. Breathing. Alive. Against all odds. Bobby smiles. And whispers.

"Thanks, John."


	52. Dean's got a girlfriend

No spoilers. Pre-series.

XXXXXX

"Dean's got a girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"She's your girlfriend. You need to inform yourself."

"Dude, what the hell would you know about it, you're ten..."

"I'm twelve!"

John feels like he has quite literally just walked through the door and they are already bickering. That's all that registers at first, behind his blinding headache. He should be paying attention, he knows. A good father would pay attention. Mary would pay attention. But then again, a good father wouldn't leave his kids alone for six weeks while chasing a dead end. Mary wouldn't leave her kids ever. She was always a good woman, a good...

He pauses midway from the living room to the kitchen when his brain catches up.

"Dean has a what now?"

He gets "a girlfriend" and "not a girlfriend" as answers and they manage to say the word "girlfriend" completely in sync. Not the first time they do that, actually. Not the hundredth. Every time it happens John wonders if a good father would be paying for therapy. This level of intertwinement surely can't be healthy. But he has more pressing concerns now.

"Who is this girl?"

Dean opens his mouth but Sam beats him to it. "Cheryl Anne", he says mocking the southern drawl of everyone who lives in this godforsaken town. A good father would chastise him for it. John would, but Dean's got this odd expression as he exaggeratedly rolls eyes and it distracts him.

It takes John a heartbeat to recognize it. It's been years since Dean has ever been caught blushing. It takes Dean a heartbeat to cover it up. "She's just some chick, no big deal."

"Some chick who has been here every day," Sam helpfully adds. He ignores the "dude, shut up" coming from his brother. "They go out every Friday and Saturday nights. She cooks for him, she..."

John cuts him off and his tone makes Sam shut up immediately. "You brought a girl here? Are you insane?" Dean straitens his posture and reports. "The guns are all in the car, we're not hunting anything, I cleaned the house of anything weird she could find out, I dropped holy water on her and she wears a silver ring." He pauses. "She's cool, dad. You'd like her". Sam snorts. "But she is not my girlfriend!" Dean tosses a pillow.

"Ok, enough. We'll talk about this in the morning. You two go to bed."

They don't talk in the morning, though, because, in the morning, Cheryl Anne is there. Making breakfast. With an apron. She has curly blond hair and blue eyes and John is taken back to 20 years ago and can't talk at all.

"Mister Winchester! Good morning! It's nice to finally meet you, sir!"

He nods and looks around for his sons, who are nowhere in sight. "Sam's in the bathroom and I'm trying to make Dean hurry out of bed, but you know Dean, right?" She laughs and hammers right on. "I hope you like pancakes!"

"Told you she was his girlfriend", Sam mumbles past him and sits on a chair. "Morning, Sam!", the girl chirps and actually ruffles Sam's hair. Sam rolls his eyes and blush and it is the exact same expression his brother was wearing not twelve hours ago. A good father would definitely be looking into that therapy thing.

A good father would also do something about the frozen solid teenage son who stepps out of his room. Cheryl Anne has her back turned and hasn't had the opportunity to chirp him out of it. Dean's eyes go to his father, then to her, then back to John before settling on Sam's and silently begging for help.

For the everlasting credit of Sam, he doesn't jump on the opportunity to make his brother even more miserable. He actually stands up and says "oh crap, I just remembered I have a study group before classes today, I'm gonna be late, can we go right now, Dean? Please?" Dean looks as relieved as John has ever seen him as he blurts "yeah, Sammy, sure, no problem, Cheryl let's go."

By the time the girl has opened her mouth to protest, they are both out of the door.

SPNSPN

Cheryl Anne doesn't get back to the house for the next few days. Dean must have said something. John doesn't care what. He should talk to him about it, he knows. But he needs an opening and Dean never gives him one. Keeps feeding him talks about anything but. The car. Sammy. The hunts. Sammy. The house. Sammy.

Jim warns him about a chupacabra two towns over. Quick and clean, in and out. He doesn't even bother letting the kids know about it, but they must have gathered he went hunting and expected him out for a longer time because when he gets back home one night, Cheryl Anne is there.

Curled over Dean, they both fast asleep on the couch. Sam is sitting on the floor doing homework on the coffee table. He looks at John, shrugs and silently mouths "told ya". John is too old for this shit. It's well over 10PM. Where are this girl's parents? John doesn't have to normally worry about this things, because other parents do it for him.

"Dean".

He doesn't even raise his voice and Dean jumps up. He barks a "sir" that would make a drill sergeant proud. Cheryl Anne merely yawns exaggeratedly. Ok, now what? What does John say? What does he want?

John doesn't know. So he just… turns around and goes to his room. He hears some talking and scuffling on the living room and when he returns, Cheryl Anne is gone, Sam is getting ready for bed and Dean is doing the dishes.

He asks about the hunt but John is done deflecting.

"Look, son…"

Dean cuts him. "Dad, I know…"

John cuts him back. "Dean, I don't have a problem with you having a girlfriend". Dean breathes an exasperated "she is not my girlfriends, Dad!". John doesn't usually receive that tone. That tone is reserved for Sammy. It makes John smile against his will.

"Dean, shut up and listen to me."

Dean shuts up and stands still. "There's nothing wrong with you having a girlfriend." Dean rolls his eyes and John glares. Dean resumes his posture. "As I said… uh…" What was his point, again? "Well, you are growing up and I understand that…. uh… girls are a part of that. As long as it doesn't affect your school or your training and you understand we are not staying here permanently…. Well, Cheryl Anne is welcome here. Just… keep the guns away. And, uh… use protection."

They stay silent for a long while and John just… Better parents would know what to do. Mary would know what to do. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Dean?"

Dean nods. "Of course, sir".

Next morning, he wakes up to the sound of Dean huffing while doing push-ups on the living room at 5 AM. Dean goes to school, gets back and works on their guns. He spends the night reading Singer's books on lore. He does the same routine every day and John is pleased. So pleased it takes him three weeks to realize what's missing from this equation.

Sam is doing homework one Saturday night and Dean is not there so John asks. He repeats it in his head a couple times to get the friendly tone right. Talking to Sam is hard.

"Dean is out with Cheryl Anne?"

Sam's eyebrows rise up in confusion. "He went to get pizza in the deli." Oh. Okay. John nods. He can actually see Sam's thought process across his features. "Dad… Dean broke up with her weeks ago."

John is… surprised? Relieved? "Oh… really?", he tries to go with confused. "Yeah", Sam says. "Like you told him to." And…

Dean did not understand what he was saying.

Ashamed. What John is feeling is ashamed.


End file.
